Through Time
by SaveUganda
Summary: *Updated*She was once told that she would have a love that would last through time, but with Susannah having saved Jesse and allowing him to live will she have lost her chance, or will something so meant to be conquer all, including time?
1. Epilogue

Hello, hello, so this is my first shot at writing on this site and I'm pretty nervous. I hope it's acceptable though.

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Having already been signaled to stay where I was, I followed my orders. Don't move, don't speak, just stay. I watched as a dark figure emerged from the opening in the loft, completely blocking the dim light from below. What would Felix Diego do if he realized that it wasn't just Jesse up here? What am I thinking, he'd kill us. Of course. But really, I mean, have I ever backed down from something like this before? Have I ever choked up? No. So why was I now? Because I had been signaled by the man whom I love, and he, at this period in time, did not even know it.

My eyes slid from Diego's silhouette which was moving towards Jesse's "sleeping" form. My heart skipped a beat as I reminded myself that Jesse had to live, this time. Allowing him to die was too selfish, and I am _not_ selfish. Right?

"_No. _I _will take him." _Jesse's words echoed through my mind. I had so many doubts, so many worries all from a few words. What if the man whom I love was killed? I would have him in the future, but he was supposed to live this time and I don't think I could bear to see him killed in front of me. And if he killed Diego… 

My thought process came to a complete stop as I watched Diego wrap the ends of his belt around his fists. 'This is it,' I thought, 'I am going to watch Jesse die.'

"Así que es verdad," came the calm and cool remark, causing Diego to stumble in surprise.

"What did he say?" I practically hissed it at Paul, hating myself for taking French instead of Spanish.

"'So it IS true.' Now shut up so I can hear."

"Así que usted sabe. Sí, es verdad. Estoy de aquí matarle."

This time I didn't have to ask Paul. "He said, 'So you know. Yes, it's true. I'm here to kill you.'"

Jesse was speaking again, but I couldn't make out anything. My ears had started ringing and then a name I knew came through.

"He said 'Maria sent you?'"

Diego laughed and then lunged at Jesse, who in return lunged to meet Diego rather than roll away, like any sane person would have done. I watched the men battle back and forth and come alarmingly close to the edge of the hayloft where it fell away to the ground below.

"It's a fair fight," Paul whispered. At this point the closeness of his body and the heat of his breath as he whispered in my ear made me cringe. I didn't see the fairness in it. Not just in the fight, but the situation in its entirety. As these thoughts clouded my mind it struck me that Diego had withdrawn a knife from his coat. Ohmygod, a _knife_ and this was fair?

"Jesse!" I shrieked, fear for his life overtaking my voice. "Knife!"

Diego spun towards the direction of my voice and lashed out at Jesse at the same time. Jesse jerked in shock and clutched at his arm then seemed to brush it off and knelt down and removed his own knife from his boot. The very knife that had cut me free from the ropes Paul had used to tie me with.

"That's it. Somebody is going to get-" Jesse jerking wasn't because Diego now knew where I was. When he had grabbed at his arm it hadn't made sense, and then it hit me.

"That's what we want," Paul said evenly, his grip on me that I hadn't noticed before suddenly tightened, drawing my attention to it. I was confused. Jesse had just been stabbed, and Paul was saying this? Suddenly I couldn't tell which side he was on and began snapping at him about wanting Jesse to die and why was he not helping them?

Jesse replied sharply to what I had been saying but I wasn't paying attention. I momentarily… well, I'm not sure how to explain it but it's like I was frozen, and then Diego had his knife to my throat. 

"Drop the knife," Diego said to Jesse while applying pressure to my throat, "or the girl dies."

His last words echoed in my head. _Or the girl dies._ I didn't want to die, it wasn't my time.

"Suze! Shift!" I had refrozen, unsure of what to do despite Paul's words and then I was shoved away from Diego and falling. It crossed my mind that I was going to fall from the loft but instead I crashed onto something made of glass and metal. Before I understood what had happened flames were dancing around me and I was trapped, remnants of the lantern scattered about my feet. I wanted to rush out and help Jesse fight but couldn't manage to will myself to rush through the fire, so instead I stared through the heated walls of my prison. 

Watching Jesse now was almost frightening. He lunged and stabbed and it was as if he had been possessed by something other than rage. Diego looked surprised, apparently having never seen Jesse like this before. He had his knife poised, pointed at Diego's rib cage. The tick to this was getting it in between the ribs, which happened to be an extremely difficult task. If Jesse succeeded it would be fatal, and if not… Let's just say we want him to get between them.

I closed my eyes tightly, no longer able to watch. "Jesse," I whispered, "I'll miss you." And then I was gone.

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**A/N:** Hi guys, so I know everyone writes this but please, please review. You can tear it apart and shower the pieces down upon me. I'm just trying to figure out of I should continue writing this or just stop now. I have another chapter already finished but I think my putting it up will depend on the type of responses that I get. Please and thank you. :)


	2. Chapter 1

Hello again to those who have been reading. I've been picking at this Chapter and decided I would leave it the way it is. I have so many things I want to use, but it's just not time yet. Ugh. 

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I ducked as Marx and Engel's _The Communist Manifesto _seemed to have flown at my head. Ducking to avoid that thin book? Hey, I didn't really feel like chancing being jabbed in the eye by a corner. I would have ducked if it had been Vogue, or CoverGirl, it didn't really matter what it was. Seriously though, this was getting annoying. I hadn't even done anything wrong for this to be happening. Not that it was usually my fault, but really, this I did not deserve.

"Do it! You have to do it!" 

I arched a brow and placed a hand on my hip in hopes of portraying a sort of 'Oh really, I'm taking orders now?' sort of thing. "Um, first no I don't. And second…ly I can't." Another book was thrown, this one narrowly missing my arm. It crashed into the wall behind me, leaving a dent upon impact. "What the _hell_ was that?" I glanced down and saw the book which happened to by lying open, ironically enough, on _To One Departed_. Instantly I recognized the extremely thick, extremely heavy leather bound copy of the completed collection of work done by Edgar Allen Poe. Had she really just thrown that at me? That thing was huge. Oh yes, she sure as hell had.

"He. Said. You. Could!" She stamped her foot on each word; more like a child would have than the young adult she portrayed herself as. "I want it. I want it back and you can give it to me!" Her voice raised in pitch as she neared the end of the sentence causing me to wince. The furniture in my room had begun to shake, which I ignored. Luckily no one except Max was in the house and he tended to keep a safe distance from my room unless Spike had randomly chosen to grace me with his unsightly presence. Everyone else was outside either helping dig the hole for the Jacuzzi Handy Andy was putting in or standing back and watching the activity. IE, my mother.

I snapped, still stuck on what had just happened. "I can't believe you threw that at me! You could have killed me, and then where would you be? Hm? Where? Oh yeah, that's right; dead. Still."

I happen to be one of those people who really don't like being touched. I mean, I _really _do not like being touched. Oddly enough, it's different when I'm the one making the contact. Like when I became enraged about almost losing my head and my fist collided with the jaw of the woman standing in front of me. Yeah, that's when it's okay. At least by me. I'm sure she would have begged to differ.

Her head snapped back and she let out a shriek which I proudly considered to be of both pain and shock. Throw a book at me, what was she thinking? While she busied herself clutching her face and spitting obscenities at me I decided to take advantage of the situation and grabbed a hold of her. 

"I just want to live again," she whimpered, still holding her face. Suddenly she seemed so young, so small, despite her size and age. 

Time to cool it down, I thought. Sighing I patted her on the shoulder, kind of. Kicking ghost ass was what I did. Providing comfort to someone who had just tried to knock me unconscious with books wasn't. So why I felt the urge to be kind was unknown to me. It almost felt as if someone would have wanted it that way and I didn't want to disappoint them.

"I don't know who told you that I could bring you back to life, or whatever else they may have said, but I can't." I spoke softly, trying to calm her and went on, "That's not in my job description and even if it were I don't see what makes you so… special. Why do you deserve to live over the rest of the dead? So no, I can't help you that wa-," I rolled my eyes and stopped talking. The woman that I had just been holding had dematerialized and my hands were hanging in the air. I try to be nice and improve my social skills and she didn't even have the decency to hear me out.

"My soul at least a solace hath," I quoted, "In dreams of thee; and therein knows, An Eden of bland repose."

Welcome to the life of Susannah "Suze" Simon, Mediator Extraordinaire.

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Please don't forget to review,

Let me know what I'm doing wrong, let me know if I'm doing something right. Let me know if you'd like more.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: First and foremost I would like to put out thanks to those who have reviewed. It means a lot that you took the time to tell me what you think of the story and I really appreciate it. It gives me the inspiration that I need in order to keep writing.**

**Now, for the good stuff.**

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After my eventful experience the night before I was willing to admit that I had been left a bit unnerved. I could count the people, ones who were currently alive anyway, who knew that I was a mediator on one hand, and even then I didn't have to use all of my fingers. The things she had said, shrieked, and cried made little to no sense. _He_ told her that I could restore her life? Well, who in the hell was he, why was he lying, and how did he know me?

I pushed the feeling of unease to the back of my mind as I readied myself to go to school. I had forgotten to set my alarm the night before and had been woken by a pounding on my door accompanied by remarks so loving from Brad on the other side that I had no choice but to take my sweet, sweet time as I got ready. There was no point in attempting to use all of the hot water since everyone else would have already finished with their showers by now. That was fine by me, payback comes in many forms and I was more than happy to find a more interesting way to express the way I felt about the things Brad had said.

It was probably one of the quickest showers I had ever taken. I applied a mascara and clear lip gloss and allowed my mass or curls to hang wet around my shoulders. Well, so much for taking my sweet time.

The banging on my door had returned and I could hear the revving of the engine as Jake waited outside.

"Simon! Get up or we're going to be late!"

After ripping the door open I shoved past Brad and trotted down the stairs, ignoring his remarks.

"Oh, did her Majesty not get enough beauty sleep last night?" He snickered at what he considered to be wit. Really, he thought he was funny.

Revenge would be bitter sweet. The more he spoke the more I was fueled and he didn't even know it.

"Did you hear me?"

I glanced over my shoulder as I rushed out of the house and towards the car. Of course I hadn't heard a thing he had said but chose to smile sweetly instead of educating him on true wit and sarcasm. His face screwed up into a look of confusion. Well good then, let him figure out my reaction. Judging by the intelligence he displayed, or lack thereof, it would take a while.

Still smiling as sweetly as I could manage I slipped into the backseat of Jake's car and slammed the door, completely ignoring the odd looks he was sending my way via the rearview mirror.

"Problem?" I cocked my head to the side, curious as to why he chose today to be alert and observant.

"There must be."

He shook his head and put the car in reverse.

(Later) 

"No Father D, I'm telling you she was crazy," I rested my hands on the smooth surface of his desk and watched as my heart beat cause a vein on my hand to jump with its rhythm. The pulsing section of protruding skin was speeding up as I became more annoyed. He just wasn't listening to me.

"So because she is crazy you couldn't be bothered to ask her name?" Father Dominic sighed and placed his own hands on the desk, opposite of mine. My attention shifted from my hands to his, noticing for the first time how his were freckled with age. How many times had I been in this room, sat across from him, and never noticed? It was something insignificant but after noticing the spots I realized that they would have been hard to miss.

My fingers curled, turning my hands into identical balled fists. "Why is her name so important? Did you not hear me when I told you what she wanted?"

He propelled himself backwards with what looked to be a small push and got up from his chair.

"Yes, Susannah, I did. But is it really an uncommon request from someone recently deceased? Perhaps she did not understand what happened to her, or was unsure as to where she was. If you had taken the time to ask her a few simple questions then it would make more sense."

"I didn't have time to!" Mirroring him I jumped up from my own chair and glared at him. "She threw a book of poetry at my head! It was like this fat!" To emphasize my point I held my hands four inches apart from one another and waved them in front of me.

"That," he sighed, "is beside the point, Susannah."

Beside the point? I could be lying in a hospital bed right now and it was "beside the point". I folded my arms across my chest and let out a huff of breath. "So explain to me why she said that '_he'_ told her that I could do it?"

Father D shifted his weight to his other foot and shrugged, as if it were answer enough. "From what I am aware of Paul, myself, and Dr. Slaski are the only males who know of your gift. Since Dr. Slaski cannot speak I see no reason why any of us would tell a restless soul that you could return them to their lives. You know it is against my belief to spout lies. Anyway, it is time for you to return to class, your grade in French isn't what it could be and I will not be responsible for it."

"But that doesn't explain how this person knows who and what I am! You can't just write this off and send me on my way, this is important!" My knuckles had turned a shade of white and I had to force myself to unclench them.

"Yes I can. Like this," he then proceeded to scribble out my pass back to class. When he handed it to me his eyes were focused on me, yet completely unseeing.

Odd, I had never seen Father Dom look like that before. Since I had already been ordered to leave I shrugged it off. Questioning his distant gaze would have been pointless.

Muttering, "Merci pour votre aide," I left his office.

"De rien," came the soft unsteady reply, muffled by the thickness of the door.

Walking to my class didn't ease the tension I was feeling throughout my body like I had hoped it would. If anything, by the time I had gotten there I felt even worse. Bracing myself I took a deep breath and entered the classroom.

I passed the note to the teacher who asked if I was all right.

I forced a smile. "Of course, Sister."

As soon as I turned my back to her I let the smile drop and took my seat.

"Susie, you look like you're about to deck someone."

"I've told you not to call me that. It's Suze and you know it."

He smiled, making him even more handsome than he already was which was saying a lot.

"Okay then Suze." He held his hands up as if in surrender, then chuckled to himself. "It's been two years and you still haven't lightened up."

A hand slapped down on the desk of the person in front of me, causing him to jump. "Monsieur Slater, ai-t-je dit quelque chose drôle?"

I concentrated on what she was saying and tried to translate it. 'Did I say something funny?' Or was it amusing? I wasn't sure. I didn't even know why I had chosen this language to study to begin with.

"Non, la Soeur." He scowled as she walked back to the front of the class and continued with her lecture.

"Could that be because I've had to deal with you almost every day, _Pauly_?"

"Ooh, pet names." Paul pretended to clap as he glanced from me to the Sister. "I was wondering when we would finally reach this level in our relationship."

My fist clenched in reflex to his words, which he, without a doubt, noticed.

"Oh Suze, what am I going to do with you?" His eyes shone in amusement as he watched my other fist ball up. "Losing your temper now will only result in a rough lesson later."

I closed my eyes, inhaled, and counted to ten. 

It was going to be a long day.

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**Just a reminder to please review. Praise it, bash it, whatever. Just give me something to work off of.**

**Please and thank you. **


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Another huge thank you to those who have taken the time to review. I truely appreciate it. I mean, hey I enjoy the demands of more chapters, and even the threats about character relations (You know who you are!). However, I feel kind of bad because I'm already teetering towards the point where I'm considering holding the next Chapter hostage until I get some more lovely reviews. I have a nice amount of readers, but only three of you tell me what you think of the work. So, make me smile? ;  
**

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French seemed to be my longest class of the day. I'm not sure if it was because I had to sit behind Paul and listen to him as he began to count away the things he had in store for me once school let out, or if it was due to the fact that I was listening the to rest of the students around me repeat French terms as if they were a bunch of drones. It was like the life of my classmates had literally been sucked away and that agitated me to no end. They couldn't really help it, French isn't a boring subject but it's not exactly exciting either.

"Class, I will point at an object and I want you to tell me what it is." The Sister pointed to the entrance of the classroom and glanced around as everyone remained silent.

I leaned back in my chair and tilted my head. "Sister Siena, I'm pretty sure that it's a door."

The people who sat around me tittered to themselves, repeating what I had said. Sadly enough, she did not seem to think it was an entertaining statement. The teacher's hand came down upon her desk as her face reddened. "Susannah! I will not tolerate your snide remarks, you will write me a one page paper, in French, and have it to me tomorrow morning."

I straightened from my slouched position and leaned forward and across my desk. "Are you kidding? _You_ asked us what it was. It's a door. _Un porte_. As in, _je suis sur le point de partir par cette porte_."

One of the girls sitting next to Paul leaned towards him, her face wrinkled in confusion. "What did she say?"

"'A door. As in, I'm about to leave through that door.'"

Her face had made an interesting transition from red to purple and I thought she might actually keel over. Her mouth was opening and closing, which reminded me a lot of a fish that had been removed from it's bowl. A Siamese Fighting Fish, if we were going to be specific. Her skin tone was the same color as the one I had owned when I was a child and still lived in Brooklyn.

Paul glanced over his shoulder to me and whispered, "I always thought nuns were supposed to be calm, peaceful people."

As serious as he was I snorted and choked on the bubble of laughter that I had been about to emit. It certainly wouldn't help the situation, despite the fact that Paul had made a fine point. I won't lie, I had been wondering the same exact thing.

"Miss. Simon, I suggest that if you plan on graduating this year with the rest of your class then you will be a little more respectful to your elders and to your peers. Because of you we are wasting valuable study time."

She was seriously trying to blame me for wasting time. I told her what she wanted to hear, it wasn't my fault that she was causing the entire situation to drag out.

"Well you see, _you_ asked a question. _I _answered it. Yes, I do plan on graduating. In fact, I don't even need to be taking this class. Four years of a foreign language? Please. Technically I only need two, and I'm pretty sure that everyone else finds this," I paused in my speech the point at Sister Siena, and that at myself to emphasize my point, "a lot more interesting then telling you what they had for breakfast and whether or not they enjoyed it in a different language."

I should have just laughed at Paul's comment instead of opening my mouth and expressing how I felt and what I thought of the situation. Normally I would have done just that, so why couldn't I just let this go? Honestly, my behavior struck me as odd. While it was true that I didn't normally just roll over without a fight I had never behaved like this. I _did_ respect my elders and didn't usually challenge them this way unless they happened to be dead. It was almost as if I were acting like…

Paul was watching me over his shoulder once again, his eyes staring intently at me. His face turned from looking surprised to complete contentment. As if he knew exactly what I had been thinking he nodded, which, in Paul, translated to 'You're right.'

I didn't mean to but I couldn't help myself, I actually gagged at the thought.

As unintentional as it was Sister Siena seemed to have thought that my gagging was directed at her rather than discovering that I had turned into someone whom I, with every fiber of my being, despised. Even if I wanted to I wouldn't have been able to explain the reasoning behind my-what had she called it? Oh, behind my vulgar sound. And that was how I ended up in Father Dom's office for the second time of the day.

I walked through the front office, passing the secretary without so much as a glance, and straight into Father Dom's personal sanctuary. He glanced towards the door upon hearing it open, saw it was me, dropped his pen and moved the paper he had been writing away from him and under a stack of notes.

"Susannah."

"Father Dom," I mimicked his serious tone, yawned and took a seat.

He placed his elbows on the surface of his desk and rested his head in his hands with a sigh.

"I do believe we have discussed the action of knocking."

I nodded and crossed my legs. "We have."

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He shifted his posture so that he could massage his temples.

I offered him my brightest smile, "I just thought that maybe you missed my presence. I know I brighten this room." There really was no avoiding it so I passed the note from Sister Siena to Father Dom, which provided a very bias run down of what had occurred.

His head snapped up, looking extremely displeased. "You called Sister Siena an old biddy?!"

"She heard me?" My eyes widened in surprise, apparently I wasn't giving her enough credit.

"I can't just let this go, Susannah. We've discussed calling Sister Ernestine names and it's the same with all of the others. You will have to serve a two hour detention after school. I'll have a note sent to Jake's class so he will know that you will be staying after."

"Really?" I instantly cheered up. "You have no idea what a favor you've done me." I really couldn't have been happier. I mean, I had just been saved from lessons with Paul.

A knock came on the door and the secretary stuck her head through the space that she had created. "Father, Adam MacTavish seems to have super glued his hands to his desk and we're not really sure what we should do."

I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing and turned to face the secretary. "Who dared him to do it?"

"It wasn't a dare." She shifted nervously in the doorway, debating whether or not to share the information. "Kelly Prescott told him that if he glued himself to something she wouldn't speak for five minutes."

I had to bite my lip, _hard._

"Miss. Simon," Father Dom let out a long breath and shook his head; "you and I are finished here. You know how detention works and we will continue this discussion later." He excused himself and left me alone in his office.

I know it was wrong to do and not my place to do so but I went and sat behind Father Dom's desk, looking for the paper he had been writing on. When I had entered the room he had acted like a child who'd literally been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. It was the only way to describe the look on his face when he realized who had come in.

After having finally found it I skimmed over it and my heart stopped.

_I am under the impression that it may finally be time to tell her what to expect, but I believe that this is something she will have to figure out for herself. It sounds odd but I have a strong feeling that he and the crazed woman are connected. Their connection makes no sense, but I believe that it will reveal itself in time. I am still unsure as to how I know these things, and do not fully understand why. I think, perhaps, that I will wait before saying anything. One way or another, he's coming.  
_

No wonder Father D was being so cold. He was hiding something from me, and it was something big.

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**A/N: And now for round two of: Please, _please_ review. The more you review, the longer the Chapters and the quicker you get them. Everybody wins!**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you again to my darling reviewers. Chapter 3 was the most with a total of 4. Hopefully with this chapter (which happens to be my favorite so far) will earn a few more of that.**

_So stand in the rain  
Stand your ground  
Stand up when it's all crashing down  
You stand through the pain  
You won't drown  
And one day what's lost can be found._

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I could feel the bile rise in my throat and narrowly managed to choke it down. It had briefly crossed my mind that what had just occurred with my body was fairly disgusting, but there were larger things going on at the moment and trying to find some sort of breath mint would be a stupid thing to do. The note lay in front of me, the written words blurring and floating around on the page. It felt as if I were being taunted by the inanimate object so I shoved it back into the pile where I had originally found it.

Despite the fact that I had no idea what any of it actually meant I was, for lack of a better word, worried. Obviously it was discussing myself and the ghost I had recently encountered but the rest of it… well, it was what it cryptically was. Was this man that was coming good? Was he bad? _Who_ was he?

I left the now empty office behind and wandered back to Sister Siena's class. Apparently we had already been released and the other students were filing out of the room and rushing towards their lockers. If I didn't already have plans, which I admit were much better now than they had originally been, I would have been in a rush to get home too. I mean, really, serving a however long detention beat spending time with Paul by a long, _long _shot. It was sickeningly ironic how to any other female in the school time with Paul would practically be the equivalent to spending time in heaven, excluding the part where you have to be dead to get there. And then there was me, someone who would rather serve a detention then be caught dead with him.

I gathered my things from the empty room and walked towards the class where detention was held. I took my usual seat in the back of the room and looked out through the window to admire the ocean. The sun was shining down and hitting the water at a perfect angle, lighting up the waves as they crashed around. Although days like this were common in California there was something about this one that kept screaming at me to go to the beach.

Well, so much for that happening. I shuffled through my purse and removed my iPod from the cluttered contents of the bag. I put my head phones on and watched as the people filed in. Surprise didn't even describe the way I felt as I realized that the last person to enter was none other than Mission Academy's very own Queen, Kelly Prescott. Bribe Adam into gluing himself to a desk. Serves her right to be stuck in here.

Snickering to myself I hit shuffle on mp3 player and leaned back in my chair. The first few songs didn't seem appealing and I eventually found myself lost in the movement of the ocean. There was something so hypnotizing about the motion that I had become completely oblivious to my surroundings. Despite the hypnotic trance I had been in I was eventually snapped out of it by the song that had been playing.

_Now my broken heart aches  
With every wave that breaks  
Over love letters in the sand_

Ew. Seriously, I couldn't believe that people wrote stuff like this and then made money off of it. Who actually wrote love letters in the sand to someone and then ended up heart broken when the waves washed it away? Or did the waves represent the stresses of a relationship crashing down upon the participants? Why did I even have this song and why was I trying to find meaning in it? I rolled my eyes and changed it to the next.

_She never slows down  
She doesn't know why  
But she knows that when she's all alone  
It feels like its all coming down  
She won't turn around  
The shadows are long  
And she fears if she cries that first tear  
The tears will not stop raining down_

Okay, this was getting annoying now. I don't know why the songs that kept playing were about lonely people and depressing at that. It was infectious though, as I sat there listening I felt myself become overwhelmed with this feeling of loneliness. My heart began to ache and I felt like I was missing some part of my self that I hadn't realized was not there. What the heck was this? Stubbornly I mumbled "Screw this", pulled my headphones off and shoved them, along with the iPod, back into my purse.

There was no other choice but to sit there and write my French paper which I hadn't been planning on doing. Sister Siena had completely overreacted in the beginning. Besides, she really was an old biddy.

With a sigh I got to writing.

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Freedom. Finally, I was free. I think I may have actually skipped out of the detention room, giving Kelly a knowing smile on my way out. That's right, I knew what she caused and I'm sure so did half of the school, but Adam's my friend so I was on the inside. And being on the inside meant that I was allowed to be offended by her actions and take it personally, according to the Laws of Friendship.

I walked to the curb and glanced around, then cringed as I was struck with a very serious realization. I had forgotten that Jake would be at work by now and I had no ride home. With a deep soothing breath I headed off in the direction of my house. This was going to take forever, but at least I had finished all of my homework and relieved myself of my books. Not only had I dumped my books in my locker but I had replaced my head phones and was nodding my head to the music that was playing as I reached one of the cross walks. Right as I stepped into the street a car flew up next to me and came to a screeching stop literally an inch from me.

If my heart hadn't been pounding so hard I would have thought I was dead.

"Suze, where the _hell_ have you been?"

My eyes narrowed and I ripped my head phones off and then spun to my right to glare at the person who had nearly hit me. "I've been in detention. Thanks for trying to kill me!" I spit the words out and kicked the headlight of the car, leaving behind scratches in the paint which pleased me to no end.

Sadly, he ignored my action. "We had lessons today and you knew it. But no, you decided not to show up. You know what happens when you don't show up."

"Paul," I smiled brightly at him, "grow up and get the hell over it."

"Get in the car Susannah."

I considered kicking his Mercedes again but thought better of it and continued across the cross walk. Once I had hit the sidewalk again I kicked off my flats, which were killing my feet, and went on my merry way. As much as I would have preferred to walk alone the car followed me up the street.

"Suze, I'm not kidding. Get. Your ass. Intheeffingcar!"

Effing? Really? I arched a brow as I glanced at him. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

For a minute there Paul looked like he was considering driving over the curb and blocking my path but then the look disappeared and he tried again.

"Suze, please." His voice grew quiet as he spoke, almost like he actually felt bad. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you. I was just worried when you didn't show up and I didn't know where you were. You don't have a cell phone so it's not like I could call and check on you. You _scared_ me."

Please, psycho. If he thought I was going to fall for that he was an idiot.

"Even so, I would rather walk, thanks," I shot him a glare and kept going, ignoring the burning feeling on the bottom of my feet. Who was I kidding? It had to be in the 90s, at least, and the concrete was on fire. My flats had rubbed blisters on my heels so they were completely out of the question. I glanced into Paul's car and the jerk had the audacity to turn up the air conditioner and smile at me.

"Suze."

"Go. Away."

"Your next lesson is going to be Hell," and with that he sped away, the tires squealing as he took the corner sharply.

Well, wasn't that mature.

With a huff I continued on, desperately trying to ignore the pain in my feet. I think they may have actually been swelling. As wimpy as it sounds, the pain was excruciating.

Somehow, in some magical way, I made it home. As soon as I reached the yard I dropped to my knees and crawled the rest of the way. My feet were throbbing and when I gathered enough courage to glance at them I thought I might actually throw up. They were that bad. I managed to get through the front door, crawl up the stairs, into my room, and then collapsed on my bathroom floor.

I don't know how long I was out for but when I came to I was greeted by a soft, gentle voice.

"Are you all right?"

I mumbled, which if audible would have asked "Do I_ look_ all right?"

The voice was close to my ear and I could feel the presence of the person that was crouched next to me. "We need to get you on the edge of the tub so that they can soak. If we don't take care of it you're going to really suffer."

My eyes remained closed and I shook my head. "I can't get up."

"Well I can't very well lift you on my own, now can I? Get up." The voice had become grown stern and my eyes fluttered open and rolled around until they landed on the face of my would-be rescuer.

I was greeted with a smile as the person hooked their hands under my arms and, with little grace, dragged me into the bath tub and then arranged me so that I was seated on its edge and leaning against the wall.

"I wanted to apologize about before. I was… upset. My behavior was unacceptable and I apologize."

The woman who, yesterday, had tried to behead me with books was now turning on the water of my bathtub in order to help me. The life of a Mediator was a strange one.

After soaking my feet I dragged them out and winced as they touched the rug on the bathroom floor.

"You should put butter on them."

"Butter? As in the stuff that goes on toast?" The thought of it made me sick.

"Yes, butter. My family has always used butter and it works."

I stared at her as if she were crazy and only then did I actually notice her features. Her eyes were a dark, dark blue and her hair a jet black. Her skin was a beautiful olive color which anyone in Carmel would have been jealous of. It was a color that you were born with and couldn't achieve by fake-'n'-bakin'.

"There's Neosporin in the medicine cabinet, and a lot of bandages. If you could just grab those for me I'll be fine."

"Fine," she snapped as she retrieved the items for me, "but I am telling you that butter will work."

"And I," I snapped back, taking the Neosporin and band-aids from her, "am telling you that I would rather use this." I held up the tube on 'this'.

She folded her arms across her chest and glared down at me. "Well hurry up so I can drag you to bed."

I muttered to myself in a string of French as I got to work on my wounds and, when I finished, looked up at her. "Okay, I'm done. How do you propose we do this?"

She grabbed my hand and pulled me to a standing position, then draped my arm across her shoulders. "Like this. Now limp."

For being small she was incredibly strong. Although it was a short distance she got me out of the bathroom and onto my bed.

I was on the verge of sleep when a soft knock came on my door.

"Susie, honey? Can I come in?"

I rolled onto my side to face the door. "Yeah, go for it."

My mother entered the room and instantly looked at my bandaged excuses for feet. "What happened to you!?"

I shrugged and tried to blow it off. "I had no ride home and my shoes hurt so I took them off and yeah."

"Well, that was a stupid thing to do." She shook her head at me, and I responded with another shrug. "I suppose this will be of more use then," and with that she showed me what she had been hiding behind her back.

"A cigar tin?"

"It's not the container; it's what's inside of it that's exciting."

She sat down next to me and opened it up causing little bits of rust to shower my comforter. Delightful.

I held the lid and turned it in my hands to read what could be seen. _Try new Red Injun cigars!_ I wrinkled my nose in annoyance. Injun, that was so rude. _The delicious aroma will tempt even the choosiest smoker. As with all our products, quality assured._ Yeah, and a side of cancer.

"There's a bunch of letters and notes in here. Since it looks like you're stuck in bed you should go through them. I don't know what you're study in history, but this might be interesting to show your teacher or Father Dominic." She smiled at me and patted my hip. "I'll just leave it here with you," and then she left.

I noticed that the woman was sitting in my window and watching me intently.

"What?" I eyed her suspiciously as I fingered the first piece of paper.

She shifted uneasily and chewed on one of her nails, still watching me. "Nothing."

I rolled my eyes and skimmed through the letters, not really reading but looking at them. I glanced up towards the woman and caught her just as she dematerialized.

Without a doubt that woman was odd.

I tilted my head as I came across a tattered piece of paper with beautiful scrawling writing on it. For some reason I felt the urge to read it and as I did the hair on my arms stood up.

_Oh, Susannah,__  
__Oh don't you cry for me__  
__For I come from Carmel-By-the-Sea__  
__With my banjo on my knee__  
__I had a dream the other night__  
__When everything was still__  
__I thought I saw Susannah__  
__A-coming down the hill__  
__The buckwheat cake__  
__Was in her mouth__  
__The tear was__  
__In her eye__  
__Says I, I'm coming from the past__  
__Querida, don't you cry._

_-J_

What. The. Heck.

* * *

**A/N: So now that you've read it, _please review it_.**

**I must say that the Oh, Susannah bit is my favorite.**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello my lovelies. Once again a HUGE thank you to those who take the time to review. In my book, reviewslove. So, share the love.  
**

**I apologize for the wait. There was a rather large red brick wall in front of me that had the word 'BLOCK' painted on it and I couldn't find a way around it. So, like any smart person would do I blew it down with a hefty dose of TNT and here we are now.**

_Matchmaker, Matchmaker,  
Make me a match,  
Find me a find,  
Catch me a catch,  
Night after night in the dark I'm alone  
So find me a match  
Of my very own._

With a side of:

_I don't want to love you if love is this alone  
Silence couldn't stop the sound  
The news and gossip got around  
A whisper here whisper there  
I do but don't know why I care._

* * *

It had been a week since I had injured myself walking home and had been given the tin of letters and other oddities. The paper with the altered lyrics of _O', Susanna _rested on the top of the stack since it was, in fact, the page that I read the most. Truthfully it was the only one that interested me. I had read the others and they were just letters from some self-centered woman who prattled on about being wealthy and shared the gossip of the inhabitants of Carmel.

Judging by the words of this woman Monterey County had been a very boring place back in the day. The gossip mostly consisted of things along the lines of: _And you will never believe whom I saw walking together. So and so, and so and so, without an escort! If I were to ever say anything surely their entire families would be scandalized and all put to shame!_ or _Yesterday I over heard __insert name here__ whispering with __insert someone else's name here__ and they dared to discuss me! Me, of all people! It is not _my_ fault that I am, by far, more attractive than they. They should not be discussing me just because I was loved enough to be blessed with such a face and hair and they were not_.

How someone could be so stuck on themselves was a mystery to me. I found it to be quite sickening, really. Aside from that a few of the letters had been torn to pieces and one of them looked as if it had been set on fire. Try to make sense of that? No, thank you.

I had finally reached a point where I could hobble around without being in too much pain and told my mother that I _wanted _to go back to school, despite her insistent arguments. First she had told me that it was all incredibly stupid, and now she didn't want me to return because she was too worried about my healing wounds. I will never understand adults.

As slyly as I could I suggested that if they would just help me pay for a car none of this would have happened in the first place. She countered by saying that if I hadn't received a detention for insulting Sister Siena then it wouldn't have happened. She then went on to inform me that yes, she knew why I received it and I should be ashamed of myself. Insulting a nun, of all people! Did I want to go to Hell? I didn't bother asking her if _anyone _wanted to go to Hell. I mean, really, did I want to be grounded or, even worse, have some of my shoes taken away? No. No I did not.

So, since it would be my first day really back on my feet I was a bit worried about what shoes I would wear. I was still in pain and, truth be told, the majority of my shoes would have killed me and then there would have been a repeat of me crawling through my yard and house. Possibly some more passing out and proposed uses of butter. The thought of it made me cringe and feel queasy so I was left with no choice but to worry about shoes later.

I went through my daily routine: Shower, blow dry hair, apply make-up, choose amazing clothes, and then I stood there staring into my closet. I picked up my Pedro Garcia Ballet Flats in consideration and then attempted to stuff my still-bandaged feet into them.

"What in the hell am I thinking? Oh, that's right, I'm obviously not. Do I want everyone to see the gauze?" With an internal convulsion I tossed the shoes back into my closet, and then jerked in disgust with myself. I had just tossed a three hundred and fifty dollar pair of shoes into my closet. Was I going insane?

"Susie?" a knock came on my bedroom door followed by the repetition of my name. "Suze? Susie, are you in there?"

I remained where I was standing, sardonically eyeing my choices of what I no longer considered to be fashion statements but torture devices. "Yeah, mom. Feel free to enter my domain."

My mother padded softly into my room and I glanced over my shoulder to look at her. Then I smiled.

"I knew your feet were going to hurt, and I heard one of the girls at work talking about how comfortable these were so I thought I'd get you a pair." She had been carrying a rather long box, which she now placed on my bed. Having removed the lid of the box she pulled out a moccasin. And not just any moccasin, but a brown, knee high, laces up the front moccasin. I'm pretty sure that I might have been drooling. It's okay though, I'm not ashamed of it. They were drool-worthy.

"Mom, those are amazing!" I moved as quickly as I could manage towards my bed, removed the significant other of the one my mother was currently holding and hurried to put them on.

"And they're soft soled, which means they don't have the rubber on the bottom. It's entirely suede so you'll have more movement and they put an extra layer of padding inside of it to protect your feet," she smiled proudly and replaced the lid, "_and, _this way, no one will see what happened."

I finished putting them on and then stood, instantly shocked by how comfortable they were. "These," I paused, considering how to properly word it, "are… I don't even know-they're great. Amazing. Ingenious, even. And I'm pretty sure everyone already knows what happened. Paul probably to-" I paused mid sentence realizing that I had told my mom and Andy that I had no ride and was forced to walk home. I had never even mentioned Paul before.

My mother didn't seem to notice and instead smiled at me. "That reminds me, that Paul boy is outside, waiting. The boys already left for school so Paul is going to take you." She gave me a quick hug and then held me away from her at arms length. "He seems like a very sweet young man, Susie," she then graced me with yet another smile, this one I didn't quite understand, and then winked at me.

Oh. My. God. If she was implying what I'm pretty sure she was implying I would scream. I stared at her, and then took a deep breath to calm my nerves. "Yeah, he's really great. Well, I need to get going. Don't want to be late for announcements. They're so serious about them."

I pulled away from my mother's grasp and hobbled down the stairs, my eyes so narrowed I thought that they might actually get stuck in that position. I exited my house and was faced with a BMW 3 Series Convertible. Paul was sitting in the driver seat smiling at me, and then revved his engine.

"What the hell is this?" I asked as I jerked the car door open and threw my things into the floorboard of the passenger side.

"Why Susannah," Paul sighed and turned to face me, "this is a car."

I glared at him. "It is!? Ohmygod, what have could I have been thinking?" I feigned shock and then snarled, "Obviously it's a car." I slammed my door closed as hard as I could. "What happened to your Mercedes and why are you here?"

He put the car into reverse and backed out of my driveway, then turned in the direction of the school and took off. "Ah, well, I do seem to recall someone _kicking my Mercedes_."

I looked out of my window instead of meeting his accusing gaze.

"And when my father saw the scratches he returned with this to replace it."

My head snapped towards him, my mouth hanging open. "I kicked your car so he bought you a new one? Wow Paul, life must be so hard in your household. You basically live in your own and when your parents show up they buy you a car because the other one had scratches on it. Scratches! Those could have just been fixed."

His lips twitched, "Not if you're a Slater, Suze. You'll understand what it's like eventually."

I wrinkled my nose at him. "I'll understand what that's like? What does _that_ mean?"

"I'll let you mull it over."

So I did.

It didn't seem like it took very long before we were in the school's student parking lot. I got out of the car as quickly as I could and tried to hurry away from him, overwhelmed by his intense level of craziness.

"Suze!" Paul called after me, "Don't forget. There will be a lesson after school and you _will_ be there. I'll drive."

Without turning to face him I lifted my hand and gave him my favorite one-fingered salute, then went to stand in line for the announcements.

I heard a cold laugh behind me. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it."

And then, "Susannah Simon! Do not think for one moment that I did not see that gesture!" Sister Ernestine snapped, sounding as if she were ready to remove one of my limbs so that I could properly repent for my sinning. "Report to Father Dominic's office this instance!"

I stopped where I was for a moment and looked at the line I had been planning on joining. My eyes made contact with a pair of beautiful violet ones, and then the owner of the body pointed to myself, then to Paul and silently applauded me. Then she pointed to myself, her shoes, and gave me a thumbs up.

Smiling, I turned away from CeeCee, saluted Sister Ernestine as if I were in the army and pretended to march as I headed in the office's direction.

* * *

"Hey Father D, have I told you recently how insane Slater is? Not just, 'Oh, he's so crazy in a cute, amusing way,' like Adam is. Oh no, I'm talking like 'Is he going to kill me while I'm sleeping and then wear my skin as a suit when he's alone in his basement?' insane." I tossed my belongings onto a chair and then took my usual seat.

"Susannah! How many times do we have to go other this?"

I shrugged and twirled a strand of hair around my finger. "I know, I know. I'm not supposed to discuss the mental health of those in the school. Or insult them, poke fun, threaten-"

He cut me off before I was able to finish the list of things that I was not supposed to do. Father D had actually typed up my very own rule book and made memorize it a few months before.

"Please, be serious. Now why are you here so early in the morning?"

My eyes were scanning his desk in search of anything suspicious when it dawned on me that he had been speaking. "Come again?"

He sighed. "Susannah, why are you in my office when you should be listening to the announcements?"

"Oh, _that_. Well," I smiled sheepishly, "Sister Ernestine saw me give Paul The Finger and she became all infuriated and demanded that I see you 'this very instance!'"

Father Dom paled visibly and stared at me. "You-Paul-that gesture…" He raised his voice, and I flinched, "What has gotten into you recently?! You insult the sisters, you give your peers crude gestures, you no longer take care of yourself physically. What is it that has you changing so swiftly Susannah?"

I looked at him, and then past him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Father D."

"But I think you do." He leaned back in his chair and continued to stare at me. It felt like he was looking into me, digging around and trying to figure out what was the source of this new problem.

It was like someone had snapped their fingers and I was suddenly enraged. "I don't know _Father Dominic._ Maybe it's because the people whom I _thought_ I could trust have been keeping things from me. Not just things, but big things, possibly even huge things! Or because whenever I'm at home I end up fighting with my step-siblings. Or because Paul Slater is a total and complete psycho and you refuse to see it because you are too worried about trying to find a little bit of good in everyone. Or maybe I've changed because a part of me feels empty but I don't know why and wasn't even aware of it until recently. Hell, it _might_ even be because I just missed a week of school because I couldn't get into Paul's car and get a ride home so instead I had to walk."

I took a deep breath and then continued on. "Let's see, oh yeah, I see DEAD people, and one of them tried to take my head off one day and then she decides that she feels bad about it and starts helping to take care of me because _she_ is crazy too. Then I get a box of weird old letters written by some woman who can't see anything but herself and an poem that was so comforting that it creeps my out and gives me the chills. But if we're just going to sum it up then I am SURROUNDED by people who are insane." I hadn't noticed until I was finished and the room was deadly silent that I had been yelling. At a priest.

Father D looked taken aback and rendered speechless.

"So I don't know, Father. It could be _anything._" I felt better. A lot better actually.

He cleared his throat and looked down at his desk. "I would like to see you after school so we can further discuss these… issues and properly deal with them. It is obvious that you have some anger issues that need to be sorted out and we can clear up any misconceptions about the people around you."

I stood up and gathered my things, livid all over again. "No, Father D. I'm busy after school."

"No?"

"Yeah, no. I have to go see Paul."

He eyed me suspiciously, "The same Paul who you just called a psycho who might murder you in your sleep and wear your skin?"

"The one and only."

"Why?"

I still hadn't told Father D about my lessons with Paul, so instead of giving him the truth I came up with the quickest explanation possible. "We're going on a date."

He actually gasped and looked worried. "A date. As in you two are going to go out with one another and-"

"Do whatever people do on dates."

"Susannah, I strongly advise you not to go on this date."

I turned my back to him and walked towards the door, not bothering to say anything.

"Wait." Father D stood up and came around his desk, then leaned against it. "The poem that you mentioned, what did it say?"

I gave him a weird look and then repeated it. It was a little embarrassing but I had read it so many times that I had it memorized.

"So it's true then."

"It—what?" I turned towards him, the note I had read flashing through my mind. "What's true?"

Father Dom sighed and shook his head. "Susannah, do you believe in love?"

Now it was my turn to be taken aback. "_Love_?"

"Yes, love. Not in the way you love a parent or a sibling, but in the way that you would love someone with no blood relations to you."

"Well, yeah. I mean, I love CeeCee and Adam with everything I've got."

"Not that kind of love. That's platonic. I mean the other kind."

I shrugged. "I… guess. I mean, it's never happened to me but sure."

"Hasn't it?"

He was staring at me again like he was trying to see into my soul and find something that wasn't there. Maybe Father D should be added to my list of Crazies that I was constantly surrounded by. He wasn't making any sense.

Smiling, he walked back around his desk and retook his seat. "So now that we've established that, do you believe that if something is meant to be it will find a way to work?"

"Father D, I don't know. I don't really want to talk about this right now. I'm still upset with you."

His smile turned into a smirk. "And I you, Susannah."

Well he was suddenly cocky. He wanted to know what had gotten into _me_? How about what crawled up—no, no. That's not right to say about someone such as himself. Whatever, he obviously had issues of his own to work with and I didn't want to stick around to find out what they were.

"One more thing, before you leave, Susannah."

My hand froze on the handle and I turned to look at him. "What is it?"

"You have yet to ask your ghost her name. You know that it is step one. Perhaps you should," he removed his glasses and polished them with his shirt, then reapplied them.

"Whatever, fine," I stormed out of office and slammed the door behind me. Good, take _that_.

"You still have not told her, Father?"

"Is he here?"

"In Carmel?"

Father Dominic nodded at the woman who was now in the corner of the small room.

"Yes, he is. Have you told her?" the question was sharper now, demanding an answer.

"It is not my place to. Does _he_ know?"

The woman laughed quietly. "Of course he knows, he never forgot."

* * *

**A/N: Now I know you've all been waiting for His arrival but never fear! He makes his first appearance in the next chapter. If you have any questions about where something came from, or are confused then just get a hold of me somehow and ask. I'm human, I'm nice, and I'd be more than happy to help clear things up.  
**

**Please review or I may just feel inclined to keep him all to myself. winks**

**And on a side note, the moccasins I described really are comfortable. Soft soled ones are the best.**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello my lovelies. Thank you again for the reviews and private messages. 5 reviews for a chapter seems to be a trend these past few updates so let's try and break it this time.**  
**I apologize that this Chapter took me a while to post. I no longer have internet at my house and when I'm at school I get distracted on my laptop and forget to post the story while I'm there.**

**  
On another note, it, April 4th, is Senior Ditch Day (and the 40th anniversary of King's assassination, RIP) which means that Spring Break has begun. I am going on a Road Trip up to Northern California so if there is going to be an update it will be before Thursday. If there isn't one then I promise to make it really good to make up for it.**

**Now, for the moment you have all been waiting (and threatening me, it's okay I don't mind it) for!**

_Oh, I just can't seem to get it right today  
I just can't seem to get it right today  
I guess I'm gonna give up__._

_You'd be so perfect with me but you just can't see,  
You turn every head but you don't see me._

* * *

I'm not sure as to why, but recently the days really seemed to drag on. It was as if time itself was being altered; tampered with, stretched, rewound and replayed. What was once a simple day now seemed to last for ever. I became more tired and easier to agitate during my classes, which lead to many threats of detentions and Saturday Schools. Even ACP (Alternative Class Placement) had become a threat and I hadn't even known that the Mission had a class like that to use as a form of punishment. Honestly, I don't think the school had ever faced a student that was a large enough problem that they actually had to enforce it.

Father D had called me back into his office during my lunch break and attempted to get me to open up to him. Instead of responding I slunk down in my seat, refused to make eye contact with him, folded my arms across my chest, and stared at a corner of the room where the wall met the ceiling. The interrogation had finally reached a breaking point and the good Father actually told me, not asked me, but told me, to leave his office. Today was just a day of firsts, I suppose.

On a more positive note, my moccasins were a hit. Deep down, Kelly wished she had worn them first. I saw her expression, I could tell.

Class had finally let out and school was officially finished for the day. If I were any other student I would be excited to go and do whatever it was that I had planned. But I, Susannah Simon, had lessons with Paul Slater and had no means of escaping this time. Enthused, I was not.

Paul trailed behind me as I walked to my locker and was commenting on the "alluring way my hips moved". I shot him a dirty look which he responded to with a wink, and then glared past me.

"Aw, did someone finally get the hint?" Snickering, I turned to my locker and narrowly avoiding colliding with a mass of Orchids.

And behind the Orchids stood CeeCee.

"Hurry Suze, take them! Apparently," she sneezed and almost dropped the bouquet, "I'm allergic to them!"

It took a moment to process what she had said before I actually relieved her of the cause of her allergic reaction. My gaze moved from the flowers to Adam, who was standing next to my dear CeeCee and fighting back laughter. "You couldn't take them from her?"

He smiled and shook his head, "Nah, she's just so cute when she sneezes."

The shade of red that CeeCee had turned couldn't even be described and it only became worse when Adam pinched her cheek. I wasn't sure if it was due to embarrassment or pleasure but I wasn't about to question it.

Paul brushed past me to get to his own locker and was mumbling to himself rather darkly, judging by the tone he was using. When he finally undid his lock he jerked the locker open and threw his things inside of it and then proceeded to slam it shut. It briefly crossed my mind that he might actually kick or hit it, but to my own personal disappointment he did neither. Instead he leaned against it and refused to look at me.

Well, whatever his problem was he'd get over it.

Turning my attention back to CeeCee, I smiled. "And what are these for? 'Suze-we-missed-you-so-much-and-we're-glad-you're-back' flowers?"

Adam snorted and eyed me. "Please, you thought we missed you? With you gone I had CeeCee all to myself." He grinned and draped an arm across her pale shoulders, then winked and licked his lips in what he thought was a seductive manner. "I hate to say it, Suze, but when I try to dish out my game to the deserving ladies they're too worried that you're about to pound on them. You're a real cock block, but that's okay. I know it's just because you really want a piece of me but you don't need to worry, there's enough Adam to go around."

"Geez, you really think you're God's gift to women, don't you?" CeeCee rolled her eyes and shoved Adam's arm away from her. "Anyway, Suze, they're not from us."

"Not_ just_ women but the world."

CeeCee and I both disregarded his words.

"No?"

"No."

"Well," I adjusted my grip on the flowers and looked around as if I could find the mysterious admirer, "who are they from?"

"Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome."

Adam pretended to adjust a cape and proudly announced, "Or as I have been calling him, Zorro."

I ignored Adam's comment and continued to look at CeeCee. "Does he happen to have a name?"

She shrugged. "He didn't give us a name. He just asked us if we knew a Miss. Susannah and when we said yes he asked if we would please be so kind as to pass along a gift to you." She then pointed to the flowers, "That's the gift."

The weight of the bouquet was getting to me so I set it down. Whoever gave them to me meant business; they weren't just wrapped in plastic like flowers usually were but put in a beautifully sculpted vase and everything.

I happened to glance down at them when I noticed a folded piece of paper. CeeCee had noticed it too and had reached down and removed it before I could. She passed it to me so that I could read the words.

"Well, what does it say?"

I shot her a look that said to hold on and then unfolded the piece of paper. "It says, _'Until the last one dies.'_" The writing was breathtakingly beautiful. It was definitely not the sort of writing you saw every day and I had to show it to CeeCee.

She took it and her eyes widened. "Wow, it's like…calligraphy. It's gorgeous!"

Adam rolled his eyes and turned his attention to a group of sophomore girls who were passing us by.

Having decided to interrupt Paul cleared his throat and straightened from his hunched position. "I hate to break up your mysterious little love fest, Suze, but we need to get going."

CeeCee gave him a dirty look and then turned it on me.

Instead of meeting her gaze I just shrugged my shoulders and picked the flowers back up. "Well, we're heading out. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Now play nice, you two." Paul placed his hand on the small of my back and I had to force a smile through clenched teeth. "Call you later, Cee. Adios."

"She'll be too busy to answer the phone tonight, Suze." Adam wrapped his arm around CeeCee again and laughed. "Much too busy."

As we were walking away Paul removed his hand and stuffed them into his pockets. "Don't you think it's a little odd?" His voice bordered on annoyance and worry.

"What, that someone would give me flowers?"

He shook his head and looked at them out of the corner of his eye. "Not that they would give you flowers, but it's the kind..."

Geez, what a killjoy. "There's nothing wrong with Orchids, Paul. Maybe you should try giving flowers to people; you could learn something from this guy, whoever he may be."

"Suze, Orchids are funeral and gravesite flowers, just like Chrysanthemums. You should know this; we deal with death on a daily basis."

It couldn't be helped I could feel myself staring blankly at him. "You… actually," I paused, trying to think of how to politely word my thoughts, "know about flowers? Like, you care?"

"Don't look at me like I'm crazy," he practically snapped at me and pulled the passenger door open for me then slammed it after I had gotten inside.

I waited until he got in on his side, then decided to share with him how I felt. "I think you're worrying too much _and_ I think you're jealous."

He laughed bitterly, started the car, and put the top down. "You're flattering yourself."

For some unknown reason that statement really hurt. There was no hint of a joke in it like there would have been if anyone else had said it. Instead, he was just stating a fact and nothing more, nothing less. Refusing to show that his words had affected me I stared out of my side of the car as I had that very morning. I wasn't quite sure what it was about Paul that repulsed me. He enjoyed my presence and anyone else would have killed to be in my place, with one of the most attractive people at the school following them. So why didn't I? I mean, our like-hate relationship held no rhyme or reason. It just… was.

Disgusted with myself I wiped at what could have been a single tear forming. It crossed my mind that this excess display of emotion was annoying, but would pass. I looked down at the floor board of my seat, and then back up which was when I noticed him.

He was walking towards the parking lot, his hands resting in the pocket of his fairly tight jeans. He wore an unbuttoned black double breasted pea coat over a black t-shirt, which in a red sort of sixties-retro font read the word 'rEVOLution'. It was very flattering against his dark skin and his hair hung loosely, shadowing his face.

My heart felt like it had decided to take a break from beating and my brain ceased functioning. I couldn't bring myself to look away from him; I didn't dare blink and mentally willed him to look up and at me.

As if on cue he did just that. His head lifted and he looked in my direction. As his eyes fell on me his face lit up and broke into a smile. My heart was definitely not beating.

I finally managed to return a shy smile and glanced away, then back to him. He was still smiling at me when Paul began to back out of his parking space. The man I had been staring at lifted his hand in what could have been a greeting or farewell and my face suddenly felt like it was on fire.

"Oh god." Embarrassing? Yes. My cheeks were bright red and I couldn't calm myself down enough in order to return to my normal color.

Paul looked at me, and then turned his attention back to driving. "What?"

"It's—nothing."

Once free of our spot Paul turned the car in the direction of the exit and was forced to putt through the school's traffic. With the way we were facing, the man, who was, in fact, literally breathtaking, was now on Paul's side of the car rather than my own. Despite this, I was still staring. It couldn't be helped.

Paul followed the direction of my gaze and focused on the man. They must have made eye contact and had a negative encounter prior to now because the mysterious man's face suddenly darkened. He bit into his lower lip and his body tensed. He looked as if he had paled, although his skin was still a beautiful olive color.

"I've heard the expression 'glaring daggers' but I've never actually witnessed it. I can almost feel them stabbing me." Paul turned away from the guy to face me and cocked his head towards me and lifted his brows, "Mr. 'Tall, Dark, and Handsome' isn't very polite. Never even seen him before and he looks like I spit on him or something."

I smiled, "Do you really think that's him?"

Paul shrugged. "If it is, he doesn't look too happy. I don't see why girls like guys like that, anyway."

I leaned forward to look past Paul at the man who was still standing there with the same expression on his face. It was like he had been frozen in place. When he noticed that I was looking at him again he smiled sheepishly and shrugged a bit, as if to explain his odd behavior and then waved once more. I lifted my hand and he turned and walked away.

"That guy," Paul pointed in the direction that the man had gone, "is probably some sort of freaky stalker who sits outside of your bedroom window and watches you while you sleep. Maybe even when you're awake. '_Until the last one dies,'_ whatever _that_ means."

I rolled my eyes and put on my Christian Dior sunglasses an ignored him for the rest of the ride.

* * *

"Suze, are you even listening to me?" The sound of a familiar voice snapped me out of the trance I had been in and I scanned the room, looking for whom it belonged to.

"Of _course_ I'm listening to you," my response was snippy and clipped, but it didn't really matter. After all, it was only Paul.

His arms were crossed in front of him and he was donning a pair of black, square-framed glasses. I'd never seen them before and hadn't even been aware of the fact that he needed a pair.

He rubbed his eyes behind the glass and gave me a pointed look. "Then what did I say?"

I shifted uncomfortably on the floor and hesitated, "You said that…," my words trailed off and I looked at the floor. "You're really reminding me of Father D right now, can you take those off?"

Whipping the glasses off, he snorted. "I remind you of that old fool? Ha. Anyway, I was telling you how to vision a person's aura."

"But we've already gone over that, why are we doing it again?"

"Okay then, if you don't need any review then tell me what color yours is." Paul reached down and offered me his hand, which I took. Without any hesitation he pulled me to my feet and led me out of his room and towards the mirror at the end of the hallway. Lacking any thought, our fingers intertwined.

We had been like this before, hand in hand. Then, it had bothered me and I had tried many times to put an end to the physical connection we had. Yet right now it was just an innocent gesture, there was no motive behind this contact.

I looked into the mirror and took watched my reflection. It didn't matter where I was but whenever I saw a mirror _Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There_ always came to mind and suddenly the concept of time and parallel universes would hit me. I felt faint and looked a little green, which Paul happened to notice. His free hand slid to my waist.

"Are you alright?"

My body was shaking and I pulled away from him and stepped to the mirror's side so that I no longer had to look at it. "I'm fine. My aura is brown."

Paul stared at me, his mouth open. "Brown? Really?"

I shrugged and felt uneasy when he stared into my third eye and took on the look of being in a trance. "There's some black, too. Suze, is there anything wrong? Are you sick?"

The feeling of unease became overwhelming and I returned to his room and sat on the bed. "What do the colors mean?"

His teeth sunk into his lower lip and his voice was low, "Brown represents some form of negative condition, be it emotional or physical. And black-- black represents the absence of life. It shows a sort of blockage, if you will, of spirituality or health. It is believed that black also appears when you have turned your back on God, or whichever deity it is that you believe is out there."

A laugh escaped me, "You look so serious about this, Pauly. What is with you lately?"

"Obviously I'm going to be serious, Suze. As a shifter I understand these things. I may have different opinions on how to handle the dead, but I don't ignore what is right in front of me. You call yourself a mediator and turn your back on everything I tell you, show you, teach you. There's something wrong with _you_. People are talking about it and even your aura is saying it. How long will you keep yourself blind to whatever the problem is?"

"There-is-no-problem," my jaw was set and my face was beginning to hurt. I was so sick of hearing this.

Paul stepped in front of my and lifted my chin with his index finger so that I was forced to look up at him. "You can't even see what's right in front of you."

I slapped his hand away and glared at him, hoping to make him feel the way he had when the gorgeous man had given him the, hopefully, same look. "There is _nothing_ in front of me."

The look of hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.

* * *

**A/N: Reminder, please, please review.**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: My lovelies! How I have missed you all so! I apologize for sucking and taking what I like to call "forever and a day". I don't much care for this chapter but it needed to be finished soooo, yes. If it sounds a bit rushed that would be because it is. So anyway, please enjoy, and please Review!**

* * *

_Look at the two of you dancing that way  
Lost in the moment and each others face  
So much in love you're alone in this place  
Like there's nobody else in the world  
I was enough for her not long ago  
I was her number one  
She told me so__And she still means the world to me  
Just so you know  
So be careful when you hold my girl._

Paul had driven me home that night without a word, glance, or any form of acknowledgement that would have indicated that I still existed. The void of emotion made me uncomfortable and I struggled to find a way to cope with it. Being the type of person that I am, there was only one thing that I could think of to do-return it-and I did just that.

There was a slight possibility that I had been too harsh on him; my words too cold, too callous, too bitter. There was also the possibility that I was no longer the same Susannah Simon I had once been. There was even the bleak possibility that the possibilities were endless, which was believable. I had said what I had said and there was no chance of going back and repairing the damage my words had caused, _if_ I had even wanted to fix the situation at all.

I didn't. Not really, anyway.

Days had passed since the incident between Paul and me. It was now Friday and the saying "Thank _God _it's Friday" perfectly described how I felt, or how any other teenager felt, for that matter. There was no doubt in my mind that someone in high school had come up with the saying. Sure, being a part of the work force must have been tough for those who had to sit in a cubicle, but they worked on Fridays and the weekends anyway.

On this lovely night Kelly Prescott was going to be throwing a party and I was being forced to go so that Brad was sure to make it home in one piece. God forbid we lose him. To put it the way it was, I was going to be the Party Nazi and make sure that no one ended up unconscious on the bottom of a pool, in a fight, or behind the wheel while drunk. The night was bound to be interesting and I was bound to be added to a few Hate Lists.

It was just how I wanted to spend my Friday.

Yeah, I wanted to play baby sitter to a bunch of drunken teens like I wanted to play Russian Roulette with a half filled cylinder in a revolver.

In honor of the festivities I wore my Full Circle Decklan Embellished Top and struggled a bit to lace the back of it. I then put on my True Religion jeans (which were, of course Women's 'Joey' Super T - Rinse), a pair of run-of-the-mill flats, and a sweater to hide my top. As enthusiastic as my mother still was about my partaking in social activities with my peers she probably wouldn't have appreciated the level of fashion that my top represented.

Deep down her lack of interest in fashion hurt me.

I re-curled the parts of my hair that had gone flat and achieved the look that just screamed "It may be messy but I meant to do this. Besides, you like it and you know it." To finish off the look I applied a thin line of dark brown eye liner, a bit of mascara and was finished.

Even though I didn't care for the people who would be at Kelly's didn't mean I could go there looking like I had just rolled out of bed. I had to display at least some pride.

* * *

Brad and I made it to the party with minimal bloodshed. He had told me that my hair looked like a rat's nest so I solved the problem by hitting him. His lip had caught on his tooth and now had a small cut and was swelling slightly.

I beamed proudly at him after the trickle of blood had been cleaned away. "Good luck getting Debbie to kiss your nasty self now."

He lunged at me in the car but some guy, whom I'm sure was from another school since I had never seen him before, pointed at us and started shouting. Everyone who had been in the front of Kelly's house stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at us. The previous guy's friend opened the door on Brad's side, grabbed him by the back of his buttoned up shirt, and jerked him out and onto the grass.

I was certainly impressed.

I exited on my own side, straightened, fluffed my hair, and smiled at everyone, then at my rescuer. "Oh, good sir!" The back of my hand was now against my forehead and I fanned myself with my other hand. "How kind of you to save someone as helpless as myself!"

He smiled in what could only be described as a clumsily manner and shrugged his shoulders to brush it off. He must not have picked up on my sarcasm. "It was nothing, really. I like helping pretty women."

"As nice as it really was I could have handled it myself."

He looked confused at my lack of gratitude and I left him in that state.

* * *

Two hours had passed by -slowly- and I had been ready to leave an hour and fifty five minutes ago. From my position in the room I could see everything, including the front door and the sliding glass doors that led to the back.

Brad and Debbie were outside near the pool wrapped up in one another and completely oblivious to everyone around them. There was a karaoke machine set up near the sunken spa, which I thought was a stupid place for it, and a group of kids were screeching out what had once been a song. Kelly was hitting on the guy who had pulled Brad out of my car and Paul had just arrived.

I hadn't been feeling well recently and the fact that Paul was moving in my direction didn't help. I broke into a fit of coughs, recovered, and glared him down.

"Simon."

Ignoring him crossed my mind but there was no point in it. "Slater."

His eyes moved over me, slowly taking in my appearance. "You're looking good. Really good," he smiled which then turned to a frown. "A little on the thin side, though."

"Yeah, well, I haven't had much of an appetite recently."

Paul moved closer and then sat next to me on the overstuffed couch. "You're also looking a little pale."

I jumped up from my seat and instantly felt like I might faint. "What do you want?"

He stood and grabbed my arm. "I want you to be calm and sit back down."

"Be calm? You show up here and criticize the way I look, why don't you sit back down and shut the hell up?" I pulled my arm out of his grasp.

"Suze," Paul's eyes narrowed and he suddenly looked dangerous, "I really think that you should sit back down." His fingers wrapped around my wrist and the grip was tighter than necessary.

I balled my right fist and set my body into the proper position, readying myself to knock sense into his attractive head. He could see it and fear flashed in his eyes. To my dismay as quickly as it had appeared it was gone.

Now Paul looked as if he would have welcomed the blow, like it would give him enough reason to respond physically despite the fact that there were so many people around.

Stress and annoyance washed over me and it felts as if I may actually choke from it. The bodies of those around us were swaying and bumping amongst one another, against myself. Part of me wished that it would stop and a part of me wished that it would become much stronger, break Paul's grasp, and sweep him away.

In the midst of it all I noticed that a song was being sung and it seemed to be coming towards the two of us. How I tuned in on it over all of the other chaotic noise was a mystery, but I focused on it anyway.

"I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me…? She showed me her room, isn't it good?" Someone behind Paul yelled out another's name, causing me to miss the end of the line. The song picked up briefly. "She asked me to stay." Again the next line did not come and Paul's hold on me was suddenly gone.

"It is unkind to handle a lady in such a way." The voice was deep, but not in an unappealing way. It sounded like it had to belong to someone in their twenties, and sure enough it did. To my right was the mystery man that had given me the flowers, his hand now wrapped around Paul's wrist and squeezing as if it were nothing. Paul's hand was shaking, his fingers curling under the pressure and beginning to lose color.

It served him right for being such a jackass.

Now that the mystery man was so close I realized he was much more attractive than I had originally believed. If I thought he had been breathtaking before I was happily mistaken. Words would fail to properly describe him. He was, for lack of a better word, man, and definitely in the good way. He even had a scar going through his eyebrow.

"_Lady_?" Paul spit the word out and snickered, "She sure as hell doesn't act like one."

Paul's captor suddenly looked dangerous and he twisted Paul's wrist and arm into a position that I personally knew was quite painful. "Apologize."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, not looking at me but his wrist which had been freed the moment his mouth had opened.

Before I realized what was happening I was being ushered into the back yard.

I looked up at the man who was smiling down at me, his hands clasped behind his back. "Are you all right?" he asked with sincerity.

"I'm fine. Confused, but fine. What are you doing here?"

His eyebrows lifted in amusement, "Well, it _is_ a party. And what are you doing here?"

Damn. "I'm playing babysitter. Aren't you a little old to be here?"

"Aren't you a little out of your element here, surrounded by people you don't care for?"

I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him, annoyed. "Did you supply the beer?"

"Did you drink any of it?"

"No. Why don't you answer any question?"

He smiled again, "Why do you keep asking them?"

"Well, I guess I'm just crazy but when a stranger knows my name I sort of, oh I don't know, feel I have the right to know about said person." Despite the fact that I had become a bit snippy he still looked extremely happy.

"That sounds fair enough. I am here because it is a party and I have a few friends here who convinced me to tag along. No, I'm not too old to be here, I'm only a few years older than you are and no, I did not bring the beer. Would you like to sing karaoke with me?"

"Uh..." I looked frantically from him to the machine and the people standing around it, then back. "Sorry, but no, I think I'll pass."

"Okay," he slipped his hand into mine and dragged me towards it anyway.  
"What are you thinking!?"

I struggled briefly, and then realized that I enjoyed this connection.

"I'm thinking you won't pass."

He got me through the bystanders and to the screen. With a microphone in hand he put it on shuffle and we began to sing an incredibly embarrassing song. Because the song was dominated by a female singer I put on the show, my face bright red until we hit a calm part.

"I searched from town to town but I can't find my bird, ooh ooh. I got so desperate I sent a rocket to the moon." By this point in the song, which was actually pretty far in, our audience had doubled and some were whistling.

I glanced at my partner and continued going. "In New York City someone said they saw you singing the blues, but it was just a man from Nowhere Land who looked like you. I will keep searching on, this feeling's much too strong, my heart is ringing and I'm singing this song for you!"

Something about the song made me feel odd, like I shouldn't be the one singing it but I couldn't think of why.

"And I like you, yeah I like you," he sang, his eyes on me and not the screen. "And I like you, I like you, I like you. I l-"

Then the screen shut off and our microphones died. Those around us looked about trying to figure out why the power went out and then someone yelled that the cord had been ripped out of the power socket.

I inhaled deeply and shrugged to him, "Well that's enough singing for me." I handed the microphone off and began to walk away, unsure of where I was headed to.

"Susannah wait," he was right beside me again and I noticed that my eyes were just a little higher than his shoulder. He was a good deal taller than I was and I kept having to look up at him.

"What is your name?"

"What?"

"Your name," I tilted my head and put my hands on my hips, "What is it?"

He stopped walking, as did I, and lost the cheery life-is-great expression. He stood there staring into my eyes, the way Father D had; like he was trying to find something, poking and prodding at the very core of my being. The serious expression he now donned somehow suited him; it made sense that he should look this way. Earlier when he had been smiling it was as if he hadn't had reason to do so in a long time.

Finally he spoke, but it wasn't the words that I had expected.

"Can you guess it?" he asked.

"No, I can't." Now I was just annoyed.

"Please." The way he said it rather than asked in such a small voice so different from his usual struck me.

"James? Jamie? I don't know, you look like a J to me. Marcos, Diego?"

When I had listed the names he looked hopeful that I may get it right until I reached the last one, which was when he once again took on a dangerous look.

"You were close, so close, _mi perdió uno_," he collected himself, and then bowed on an old fashioned courtly leg. Laughter escaped me and I felt rude. "_Me llamo Jesse. Ah Susannah, yo deseo que usted me recordara. Ha sido tan largo."_

"I'm not going to lie," I nodded and pat him on the arm, "but once you switched languages I have no clue what you said. I caught your name so hi, Jesse, it is nice to know you."

"And yourself. How old are you now, Susannah?" Jesse had sat down on the grass and I joined him, surprised at the softness of it. Since it was owned by Kelly's family it was probably pretty expensive. Go figure that they would pay extra for something as frivolous as grass.

As I sat next to him, thinking about his question my mind drifted and began to wonder why I felt so at ease with him. He still was a complete stranger.

"I am eighteen. Finally legal and all of that 'good' stuff. You know, an adult. It's an age that is hyped up for nothing. What can I do now? Die for my country, smoke cigarettes, and legally engage in promiscuous acts. _So_ exciting," the sentence was ended with an eye roll and sigh.

Jesse looked taken aback.

"Eh, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to rant like that." Well, I felt like a fool. "And how old are you?"

"I'm one-and-twenty, the age where you become a real adult," he laughed and lay back in the grass, his arms spread wide.

I studied Jesse as he lay before me, unaware that I was staring. For some reason I really just wanted to lay next to him, hand in hand. It felt like we knew each other which was a bit unnerving since I had never before felt this way. Maybe he felt the same?

"Jesse," I sat back and looked through the tree and up at the stars, my hands propping me up, "have you ever felt like you've known someone for a long time even though you haven't?"

I could feel how still he had become. It felt like he was holding his breath, too.

He let out a small breath of air and adjusted his position so that his hands were behind his head. "Yes, I have felt that way, why do you ask?"

"It's just… I feel like I know you even though we've just met." I laughed nervously and avoided looking at him, "Silly, yeah?"

"There is nothing at all silly about that, _mi perdió uno._ I feel the same way towards you. Perhaps we knew one another in a previous life time?" The way he asked seemed slightly more like a statement than a question.

"Maybe. What does _mi perdió uno_ mean?" I broke into another uncontrollable fit of coughs and began gasping for breath.

"It is nothing _q_-Susannah. Lay down with me, you are not well." He grabbed my hand and pulled until I was next to him. "You can sleep, if you would like. It's one in the morning."

"I can't."

"You can, I will keep an eye on everyone," he smiled at me and began to hum. Before I could protest I felt my eyes drifting closed.

I was falling asleep quickly; I hadn't realized how tired I was. An arm slid beneath my head to act as a pillow and I smiled in my almost sleeping state. Faintly, very faintly, I heard singing.

"Oh, Susannah, oh don't you cry for me for I come from Carmel-By-the-Sea with a banjo on my knee. I had a dream the other night, when everything was still…"

* * *

**A/N: Review, review, review. **

**Please.**

**If you have questions, ask them.**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello my lovelies! Thank you for the reviews. To make up for having you wait so long I got another chapter finished. This one is probably my favorite, which means you will probably not care for it. It may not really make sense now, but all confusing things come to pass. Later Chapters will explain away.**

**Now for a quick head's up. There's a bit of gaidhlig (Gaelic) in here, so in advance if you think you're saying it correctly chances are you're wrong. I know, it sounds rude, but it is very true. When I was first learning the language (granted, I still am) I was shocked by the difference in the way the word is said and how it is spelt. To help, I am going to cheat and get the pronunciations of the words off of the handy dandy internet because they'll make more sense then what I'll put.  
**

_Horo _I believe is hey, but probably not.

_Mhairi dhu_ Black Mary

_Co thu?_ (Kō oo) Who is it?

_Do searbhanta, mo bhilis._ (Dō sher-uv-unta, ma vilis) Your servant, my sweet.

_Ciamar a tha thu? (_Kay-mar ah ha oo) How are you? (Literally How are you, yourself?)

_Mo chridhe. _My heart

_Tha mi gu math, __tapadh leibh. (_Ha me goo mah, tapeh leev) I am well, thank you.

_Sassenach_ Outlander (In this case English)

_Slainte! (_Slanche) Cheers/To your health

_Tha an t-uisge ann! _(Ha en toosh-ke aunn)It's raining (Literally The rain is in it)

_Tha me duilich. _(Ha mee dō ō-lich) I am sorry.  
_Thig_. (Heek) Come

_Tá grá agam duit__._ (Taw graw agum deach ) I love you

_Toll-toine _azzh01e, only proper

_Asqueroso _Revolting

**Told you. ****Insert wink here.**** Now, let us move on!**

_The stars are burning cheerily, cheerily, Horo Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me  
The sea mew is moaning drearily, drearily, Horo Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me  
Cold is the storm wind that ruffles his breast but soft are the downy plumes lining his nest  
Cold blows the storm then, soft falls the snow there, Horo Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me  
The waves are dancing merrily, merrily, Horo Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me  
The sea birds are wailing wearily, wearily, Horo Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me  
Hushed be thy moaning loan bird of the sea, thy home on the rocks is a shelter to thee__Thy house the angry wave, mine but the lonely grave, Horo Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me._

_The men o' the forest  
They ask it o' me  
How many strawberries grow in the south sea?  
I answer them a' with a tear in my ee'  
How many ships sail in the forest?  
Dig me a grave  
Dig it sae deep  
And cover me over wi' flo'ers sae sweet  
And I will lay down and tak' a long sleep  
And maybe in time I'll forget her._

* * *

_The sun was finally beginning to sink, fighting through the many clouds and making its way to the horizon. The black of the clouds suggested that a storm was forming and quickly. Following a sailor's instinct the ships were heading inland rather than braving whatever Mother Nature had in store. Instead of challenging the ways of the world they traveled back to the shore where they wouldn't have to worry about the wood of their vessel's being thrown about in the unruly waves like a child's toy in a creek. _

_A slight breeze began to pick up and blew threw the stones of the circle and bushes that surrounded it. As quickly as the sun would sink the breeze became fiercer, throwing that which it touched about._

_The shroud of wool that had been wrapped tightly about her body was ripped away and sent flying through the air to go wherever the faeries willed it. The edge of her thin cloak whipped about with the layers of her skirts, slapping against her legs and tangling into the thicket._

_Fabric with shades of green and brown flashed into sight from behind one of the stones and then disappeared._

"Co thu?"_ The woman's right hand slipped into the hidden pocket of her skirt and found its way to the hilt of the dirk she kept._

"Do searbhanta, mo bhilis. Ciamar a tha thu?" _The owner of the cloth and voice stepped from behind the stone, presenting himself._

_Her eyes widened and she threw herself at him. He responded quickly and caught her with a laugh, swung her in a circle, and kissed her forehead. _"Mo bhilis, mo chridhe, ciamar a tha thu fhèin?"

"Tha mi gu math, tapadh leibh." _Her head found itself in the spot in the middle of his chest and she inhaled the scent of him. "I have missed ye so, Cailean. We all have."_

_He kept one arm behind her back and the other slipped between them and against her stomach. With a deep intake of breath he pushed aside the folds of her cloak and rested his hand against the swelling mound that had been hidden from sight._

_"I have missed ye as well, Kenzy," he too had switched to English and upon saying her name took a lock of her red hair and wrapped it around his finger. "Will I be havin' a son then?"_

_She tilted her head back to smile into his sun- tanned and freckled face. His eyes were the deepest of green and his hair a true black which had been blown loose from its ribbon and was now moving about freely. "They said it was to be so."_

_"Oh, aye?" He smiled again and looked out over the cliff and into the storm. "And what else did They tell ye?"_

_She looked at him sadly and placed both of his hands against their future. "They said tonight it begins again. It is your last."_

_He took her by the hand and led her down the rocky slope and towards their home. His frown was unmistakable and a deep line of worry etched its way across his forehead. "The Auld Folk are not always right, ye ken." He opened the door for her and turned to look at the sky, then shook his head and stepped inside. "I'll not even ken my own blood."_

_"Ye have met him and there is still time yet to know him. We," she looked down at herself and then to Cailean, "only have five years. A war is to come… another rising."_

_His hand reached for hers and he kissed it. "How does it happen?"_

_She leaned against the wall and pulled her husband to her once more. When she spoke her voice was almost non-existent. "I am t-taken by a Sassenach soldier," Kenzy paused there, debating between offering more details. Deciding against it she continued on, "He is left to do nae but starve."_

_His body stiffened at the terrible fate that his beloved wife and son would share. "And myself?" he asked into her hair._

_She tilted her head back to see him properly, "There will be a fire."_

_He bent his head and crushed his mouth to hers, tangling his fingers into her hair and staring into her blue eyes which were now clouded with tears. "Ye willna cry tears for me, my wee lass." He held her jaw and lifted her face to see his bleak smile. "This is the longest we have lasted yet, and this time we had a family. Name him for me, aye?"_

_Her eyes closed tightly and she willed herself to fight away the tears. From what Cailean had told her it wasn't too terrible, his dying. It was always something different, but he always remembered it and still had been unable to prevent it. He had lived life carefully and lived it recklessly. At five and twenty this was the longest he had managed._

_She snorted stubbornly and pulled away from him. "Of course, what d'ye take me for?"_

_"A fighter," he smiled proudly as he took the dram of whiskey that she offered. "Slainte!"_

_Above them the thundered roared seeming to tear through their home and the lightning began to flash. To their dismay a knock came on the door._

_Kenzy cracked it and peered into the rain. To her surprise, "_Tha an t-uisge ann!" _was bellowed into her face. Obliging the bellower she opened the door wider and allowed the man inside. "_Tha me duilich, _missus. The Campbell's caught fire and told me to fetch Himself immediately. Ye'd think the rain would be some help, but that's nae the truth of it."_

_Cailean and Kenzy stared at one another and he nodded shortly. Her eyes watered over once more._

"Thig, thig!" _The man rushed back through the door and into the rain._

_Cailean followed him but paused as he passed his wife. Again he crushed her to him and kissed her as if it were their last._ "Tá grá agam duit."

_He, too, hurried through the door only once looking over his shoulder. Once he was out of sight Kenzy let out a sob and slid to the floor, molding into a heap of damnation, tears, and rain._

_The storm had finally hit. _

* * *

I awoke with a start and looked around blindly, utterly unaware as to my surroundings. Hovering above me was a familiar face, half-smiling but displaying a look of worry in the eyes.

"You're quite the thrasher when you sleep. I think Kelly was starting to think I was up to something, she kept glancing over here."

Finally understanding my surroundings I sat up quickly, smacking heads with Jesse. A yelp escaped the both of us and I fell back again.

"Well," he rubbed his head with a wince, "that's the most interesting 'Good Morning' I've ever experienced. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, no brain damage here." I let out a groan and tried to sit up again, this time slowly _and_ making a point to avoid Jesse.

He laughed at my attempted humor. 'Well that's good, I don't think your family could forgive me if I took you home quite… out of mind, so to speak."

Jesse stood and offered me his hand. As he stood in front of me with it extended I stared into his face, momentarily disregarding his courteous offering.

"What?" He shifted nervously, then wiped at his mouth with his free hand. "Is there something on my face?"

I finally took his hand and shook my head as he pulled me to a standing position. "No, there's nothing there other than what should be. I was just trying to picture you with green eyes, like mine, instead of brown. Only… like emeralds."

Something that I couldn't explain passed over him, and then flickered away. "Oh?" He cocked his head to the side, "And why would you do that? Are brown eyes too unappealing? They are pretty dull, aren't they?" He sighed and looked around.

I felt like I had insulted him. "No, no, that's not it! Your eyes are actually really beautiful, there's nothing wrong with them at all, really!"

He turned his head towards me so that I could finally see that he was trying to contain laughter. "My, my, Susannah, are you afraid of hurting people?"

"_No_, I am not afraid of hurting people." Well, didn't I sound childish?

I wasn't sure where we were going. I had only just noticed that I had been following him and had to step over passed out bodies to do so. Brad was probably among the unconscious or asleep with Debbie. I cringed at the thought of it. Who knew what fun and exciting creepy crawlies she might have in her system.

"So stubborn, Susannah, so stubborn." We exited the house and moved in the direction of my car. "So, tell me then, how did I look with green eyes?"

"Well, it wasn't just the eyes, but it's the main thing. You still looked a lot like you, just with slight detail changes."

"Were you," he gasped dramatically and winked at me, "were you _dreaming_ of me?"

Had I been dreaming of him? It was so odd, the man had _looked _like him, but Jesse certainly wasn't Scottish, his name was not Cailean, and this was not the eighteenth century.

I blushed, possibly caught. Quick, Simon, quick, recover! "No!" I snorted loudly and eyed him. "Why in the hell would I dream about you?"

He smiled and got into the driver's side of my car. "Maybe because I'm the man you've been waiting for all of your life."

I didn't know what to say, how does someone respond to a statement like that? Since I had no response I thought it would be wise to change the subject. "How did you get my keys?"

"Your brother-"

"-_step_ brother," I corrected.

"Your _step_ brother took them out of the pocket of your sweater last night. I took them from him and called him a cab." He put the key in and started the car. "By the way, you might want to put it back on. Your mother may have a conniption fit." Jesse removed it from the back seat and dropped it onto my lap.

All I could manage to do was stare in disbelief at him.

"You may also want to put your hair up or brush it or something," Jesse said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "You look like someone took you for a nice roll in the hay and you thoroughly enjoyed it."

Slapping him crossed my mind, it really did. I'm not sure why I didn't do it. Really, if it would have been anyone else their face would have been red and stinging the moment the words had tumbled from their lips.

Taking advantage of my stunned silence he continued to speak. "So, Susannah, why was that _asqueroso_ _toll-toine _bothering you?"

"You just spoke in three different languages. English, Spanish, and…?" I watched him closely.

He didn't flinch at all. "No I didn't, I spoke in English and Spanish. You're avoiding my question."

"There were three, I recognized the sound of the third," I pushed on, still staring him down. "What was it?"

"I," he turned and looked at me since we were currently being held up at a stoplight, "have no idea what you're talking about. It was just Spanglish."

"_Jesse_."

"_Susannah,_" he mimicked.

I made an annoyed sound and pushed back in my seat. "Ugh, whatever. I hardly even know you and already we argue like an old couple."

He mumbled something under his breath that I was, sadly, unable to catch.

"Care to repeat that?"

"No, I don't," he stated as he hit the gas.

"Okay then, so touchy." I pulled down the sun visor opened the mirror. He was right; I really did look like someone had their way with me. The dream must have really gotten to me. Hopefully I hadn't been speaking.

Annoyed that he had been right, I threw my hair up in a sort of messy bun, yet not quite a bun, and sat back. "Paul was bothering me because… Well, I'm not really sure why. I 'can't see what's right in front of me', or something like that. I think that's what he said. And then I told him that there was nothing there and he got pretty pi—upset. I guess I would be, too, if someone did that to me but it's not like I don't make it clear that I'm _not _interested, you know? But no, he just keeps on pushing and keeps on trying." I stopped. Had I really just experienced "word vomit"? It all just came tumbling out.

I looked at Jesse and saw that his face was completely blank, a mask of seriousness. "I didn't mean to ramble like that. It just sort of… happened?"

He glanced at me, "Are you asking me if it just sort of happened, or are you telling me?"

I turned away from him and looked through my window as I had done with Paul. "You know, I really don't think I like you all that much."

He let out a loud laugh which had me jumping, completely caught off guard. I pressed my hand over my heart and glared at him. "_I_ don't see anything funny about that. Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

Jesse gave me a pointed look, "You may _think_ you don't like me now, but you will."

"You seem pretty full of yourself, so sure, over this."

"Well," he pulled into a parking spot, "as time goes on some things are just guaranteed."

"This," I pointed to the 'this', "is not my house."

"Good call, Susannah dear." He got out of the car, came around to my side, and opened the door. "It's very reassuring that you can recognize what is and is not where you live. We have proof that you suffered no brain damage when you gave me that Glasgow Kiss, although it didn't quite knock me out nor shatter my nose."

"Consider yourself lucking then," I said, pretending that I had even a fraction of a clue as to what he was talking about.

"Oh, I do. After all, I am spending time with you."

"Speaking of which, what are we doing here?" I asked curiously as I looked into the restaurant. It was mostly empty, but then again it was… whatever the time happened to be.

Jesse opened the door and followed me inside. "You and I are going to get to know one another."

* * *

**A/N: Not even going to lie, I really enjoyed writing this one.**

**Hopefully you enjoyed reading it. If you did, let me know, if you didn't, let me know.**

**Everybody wins!**


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello my dears! I am so very sorry that it took me forever to get this put up but today I was struck with inspiration and went into a writing frenzy. So, hopefully you enjoy this chapter and if you have any questions feel free to ask!  
**

* * *

_Let this be a sermon  
I mean everything I've said  
Baby, I'm determined  
And I'd rather see you dead._

_ She'll never hurt me  
She won't desert me  
She's an angel sent to me  
She's got the devil in her heart  
No, no, this I can't believe  
She's gonna tear your heart apart._

If I were being honest it wasn't that I disliked _him_. If I were being honest, I didn't really mind spending time "getting to know" him. But if I was really, _really _being honest, then I would admit that I disliked his cocky self-assured you're-going-to-like-me-eventually attitude. Stalking me and sending me flowers was not going to woo me. Who was he to inform me whether or not I would like him? Time, my ass.

We had been seated in the back of the restaurant which hadn't made much sense to me since the place was practically a ghost town. This seating area was one that I had thought they kept reserved for people with children, like when you've got a toddler that_ is_ going to throw their food and scream now and then, so they stick you out of the way of everyone else so that the other customers won't complain and cut back on the tip. I was sincerely hoping that this didn't mean we were going to be ignored or forgotten.

"I didn't even know Carmel had a place like this. It doesn't seem very… up to par. By Carmel's standards, I mean."

Jesse stared blankly at me, and then his eyes lit up. "By Carmel's or by yours? Anyway, there is nothing better than coming here, eating food that is more expensive than it should be and leaving 'slammed'."

The audacity! Rather than dignifying his snide remark with a response I sipped my iced tea and waited for the food to arrive.

"Now now, Susannah, there is no reason to be so touchy. After all, we are getting to know one another, no?" Jesse leaned back in the booth and placed his hands behind his head. He was unable to get over the fact that she was so sensitive and yet tried so hard to seem like she could handle anything and needed no one. What would she do if she knew he saw straight through her tough exterior? She would, he thought with a smile, "flip a bitch".

With another sip of tea and a sigh I feigned indifference, "Yeah, so get to knowing me."

"What is your favorite thing to drink?"

"Coffee and Iced Tea."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"None."

His head tilted, "None?"

"Not real ones."

He rolled his eyes and let the subject go, "What is your favorite fruit?"

"Pineapple."

"Vegetable?"

"Baby Corn."

"How do you feel about the President?"

I inhaled sharply and shook my head, "We won't discuss that. Your ears will fall off from severe bitterness."

His hands flew to his ears and his eye brows rose, then he smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "It is all right Susannah, I do not mind if you choose not to answer."

The waitress finally arrived after taking her sweet time flirting with one of the cooks and placed our meals in front of us. I scowled at her for taking so long and because she just so happened to be ogling Jesse, which I did not appreciate. I ripped my fork from its napkin wrapping and dug into my hash browns.

"Wow, Susannah. You eat with such," Jesse paused and attempted to find the correct word that would not cause insult, "such enthusiasm."

My eyes slowly lifted from my plate to narrow and lock on to his face. Could we say target in sight? Yes, yes we could. "It almost matches the enthusiasm you used while flirting with the waitress while I'm sitting right across from you. You sure were eager to make her smile." I pointed my fork at him like it was a weapon and then shook my head and went back to eating.

The laughter in Jesse's eyes faded and his hand slid across the table and held mine before I could grasp what was happening and properly react. "I was only being personable with her; I did not wish to be rude. And I did not mean to insult your pride, Susannah." He squeezed my hand and I could feel the heat from the connection travel up my arm.

I pulled my hand away from him and forked through my food. "Enough of that," I snapped, "let's get back to the interrogation."

"What were you really doing at Kelly's party?"

Through a mouth full of eggs I announced, "Party Nazi."

"Party… Nazi…?" He looked surprised and I guess I didn't blame him. "You were going to—to kill them?"

I stared at him and could feel that my mouth was open. "Are you serious?! No I wasn't going to kill them. Sweet sugar, what is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me? What is wrong with _you_, Susannah? A Nazi?"

"It's like a figure of speech. Geez, what time are you from?"

He stiffened and then relaxed, "I was raised in a very strict environment, such terms were never thrown around as if they had no meaning. _Mi Dios_, and you with a Jewish name."

"Good thing you've been released from your bubble, it must have been hard for your parents to let you go."

"They did not let me go, they died."

My body rocked back in surprise from the news, as if someone had actually taken a giant stamp and hit me in the forehead with it leaving a large red F behind. It was official, I failed at that little thing we all happily called life.

"Oh, wow. I mean, wow. Really. I am so sorry."

He shrugged, "_'Time heals what reason will not.'_"

"How old were you when it happened?" My voice had softened considerably given the topic.

"It is not something that I really wish to discuss at the moment, Susannah. My apologies."

I nodded, "No, that's fine."

He pushed his food around on his plate and sighed, "Do you have any tattoos?"

Laughing I shook my head, "Nope, not a one, my mom would kill me even though I can legally have it done. Do you?"

"Yes, just one."

I had expected a bit more detail, "And it's of…?"

He rubbed his right hand across his heart, "It is an open, one handed silver Loundes Six Hour Dial pocket watch, circa 1700. But it has no hand, and the chain has broken," he stopped rubbing his chest and looked at me, "It is located where my heart is."

"Wow and what inspired it?"

He smiled sadly at me and glanced around the room, "I once had one like it that someone important had given to me as a gift. As I said I no longer have it but some things are just hard to get over, I suppose. And it also serves as a reminder that you never have a handle on time. You should not give it chance to rule your life, but at the same time it is always there, ticking away the seconds of your existence."

I sat there taking in what he said, then shared my conclusion. "That is very thought out and full of meaning."

"Is that not what a tattoo should be? Something that represents something you firmly believe in or even a representation of your inner self?"

"Well, I guess. I mean, now people get them just because it's not, you know, a taboo thing to do," I shrugged my shoulders; ignored Jesse's annoyed snort, and pushed my plate away. I was far from being hungry now. If anything I was feeling sick and couldn't exactly pinpoint when I began to feel as such.

"It _used_ to mean something more. A coming of age, or a representation of a tribe of warriors. You know, in Scotland there was a tribe… They were called the Picts or "Painted Ones" and they were the oldest race to occupy the area. Anyway, they used to puncture their skin with hot sticks to cause scarring and they would do it in intricate patterns. Later they started using a blue pigment from Woad. When they were to partake in battle both the men and women would strip off their clothes and head off to fight flaunting their scarred and blue tattooed bodies," at this point Jesse paused and looked at me to gage my reaction. He must have liked my reaction because he inhaled and continued on.

"I am not sure if it was meant to be a scare tactic or something else because too little is known about them. But one way or another it had _meaning_. Now if someone were to do such a thing then it would just be amusing, something to gawk at. Like that lizard man with the implants in his eyebrows and split tongue. Something like that is just for attention or a false sense of individuality, but it used to be for survival. It was just… more."

I sat there watching Jesse as I processed everything he had just told me. My opinion of him was rapidly changing and I didn't know how I felt about it. Talking to him was like speaking with a passionate encyclopedia, which just wasn't common. He had to be hiding something but I didn't entirely care.

"You are watching me like a hawk watches it's next target. Should I be worried or supportive of this?" He chuckled, obviously amused with his own jest.

"You," I reached across the table and poked him in the chest, "should feel nothing about it and flattering yourself is a waste of breath. Besides," I huffed and dug a wad of money out from my pocket, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"I think that what you are trying to do is not like me, and while it is not a waste of breath it is a waste of time." He removed the tip I had placed on the table and tossed it at me.

Annoyed, I placed the money back on the table.

"Do not insult me, Susannah." He snatched it off of the table and shoved it at me, his eyes narrowing.

"This", I held up the money, "is not insulting, it's being polite."

"It is not polite; you are insulting me by suggesting that I cannot afford this meal, which I can."

"No, what I'm doing is offering to help you pay for it because I am not a mooch and because it is the polite thing to do." I slammed the money down and gave him a look that dared him to touch it.

"Your ideals are all wrong and you are not only insulting me but causing offense so take your money off of the table before I force it upon you."

I glanced around the room and was suddenly aware that the few people seated nearby were now staring at the two of us. Standing next to our waitress was a person that I hadn't noticed before; one who emitted a faint glow. I felt my face pale and grabbed the money off of the table, ready to leave. "Okay, fine, whatever, let's just go."

Pleased with himself Jesse placed money on the table and then walked towards the cash register. "And now you are embarrassed for a scene being caused. May I remind you that are the one who insulted me?"

"Yes, I'm aware of it, can we please just go?" I grabbed a hold of his arm and tugged him towards the door.

The glowing being had not looked away from us since being noticed. One of the glass windows to our side let out a moaning sound and began to crack before completely shattering.

"What in the world?" Jesse stared at what had been a window and was now an empty frame.

"Can we please just go now!?"

The voices of the people in the restaurant became a steady buzzing and they were now pointing at us and the window. On top of the buzzing I heard a very faint "Let go." Unsure of whether or not I had imagined it I did not release Jesse's arm but continued to tug on it. Another window began to moan.

"Okay, this place is not safe, let us leave Susannah."

I made a small sound and practically ran out of the place, heading for the passenger side of my car.

"You're not even going to fight to drive?"

"No," I snapped at him and pulled on the handle, "now unlock the damn car."

He shot me a dirty look before unlocking the doors and getting in. I did the same and as we began to pull out of the parking spot the other moaning window exploded sending the glass shards shooting outward rather than in.

"_Nombre de dios_, what is going on here?"

I felt like I may very well be sick inside of my own car but managed to act remotely normal. "No clue but I really don't want to stick around and have to give reports to the cops and what not. Please just drive to your house so I can hurry up and get home before my parents decide that shooting me will be the best form of punishment."

"Oh, as if they would actually do such a thing. They are parents and parents do not shoot their children for being out late, it is just not in their nature."

"How would you know?" I snapped at him again, not at all caring that I was going to go to Hell for such a remark.

Jesse's knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel and his eyes never drifted from the road.

Needless to say, we drove in utter silence.

* * *

**A/N: I would also like to add that the pocket watch Jesse speaks of is real and can be found on google. If you find it maybe I will give you a spoiler of what is to come in future chapters. Just thought I would spice things up a little. Oh, and please R&R. Thaaaank you!  
**


	11. Chapter 10

Exciting news!

"Exciting news?" you may ask.

Yes, exciting news! Well, at least it is to me. I have not only written a somewhat long chapter but I have also… (this is where you do a drum roll on your desk, or drums if you happen to have a set)

Also……

Also………

Created a playlist for the story! Which means that every song that I have used thus far, and some that I haven't (I'm always listening to music while I write and it influences a lot of what pours from my callused fingertips) is now put together, in order, for your listening pleasure. There are, however, a few songs missing because the site just isn't up to par so if there's one you'd like to have then just send me a message and I will personally send it to you.

See? Exciting.

www. playlist. com/ user/ 21155375 (It's the featured playlist)

* * *

_Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!_

_On the front line, Ev'ry single day  
On the front line, It's Vengeance Day  
So ev'ry single day, that ever comes along  
I get up early, And sing this little song...  
Run, Adolf, run, Adolf, run, run, run  
Run, Adolf, run, Adolf, run, run, run  
Bang, bang, bang, bang! goes the Allies' gun  
Run, Adolf, run, Adolf, run, run, run._

_Of all the boys I've known, and I've known some,  
Until I first met you I was lonesome,  
And when you came in sight, dear, my heart grew light  
And this old world seemed new to me.  
You're really swell I have to admit, you  
Deserve expressions that really fit you,  
And so I've racked my brain, hoping to explain  
All the things that you do to me._

* * *

Not much later Jesse dropped himself off and I drove home replaying everything that had previously happened. Again and again I thought of what went wrong, how it had gone wrong, and why.

Having been alive for eighteen years I was already aware of the fact that I was high-strung and cocky by nature. It was the way I was born and it wasn't something that would change. Telling a person what I thought, the way I thought it to be was another part that just made up who I was. Despite this I had never been so rude to a person who didn't deserve it. Paul deserved it. The dead deserved it. Well, most of the time. People who drove like morons deserved it. Jesse? Jesse did not.

As I often dealt with my problems I picked a fight with Brad (and won), then retired to my room before he managed to find Andy or my mother. Having entered my safe house and locking the door I went immediately to my iPod stereo and hit play. I moved around the room imitating different dances of the time until Ramona Davies came on crooning her words, which I echoed along side her.

"Times have changed and we've often rewound the clock since the Puritans got a shock when they landed on Plymouth Rock. If, today, any shock they should try to stem, 'stead of landing on Plymouth Rock Plymouth Rock would land on them." I then took a deep breath and tried to do the Charleston as best as I could, which happened to be surprisingly well. And I really do mean surprisingly. My mirrored self looked as if she had gone and created the style on her own. Having merely dabbled in it during P.E. or while messing around with CeeCee wouldn't, _shouldn't_, have put me at this level.

Rather than caring I continued to sing, "In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking. Now, Lord knows, anything goes. Good authors too who once knew better words now only use four-letter words. Writing prose… anything goes." I kicked my foot out like I was going to break into the lindy hop and found myself with my back flat against the floor.

A burst of applause snapped me out of my stunned coma accompanied by a curse. I leapt from the ground as if someone had lit a fire beneath me.

"I never knew you were such an excellent dancer. I think my favorite part was your _grande finale_. I suppose I just wasn't aware that you happened to be an aspiring gymnast. I'm assuming you quit, though, since you fell the way you did. Not at all impressive."

Originally my attention had been drawn to my doorway, which is what common sense had told me to do. Then it came back for round two and reminded me that I had locked the door. Round three, and the voice, suggested that I should look at the only other means of entrance.

"What are you doing here? In my room?" I inhaled and closed my eyes in attempt to reign in my temper. "Relaxing on my property?"

"You really know how to greet your guests," he smiled at me and leaned against the window frame. "I feel all cozy now. Maybe even a little warm and tingly inside."

"Would you like me to warm you up? Freely bleeding really does the trick, what with the warm liquid and then with the loss of it you get the wonderful cold feeling. I'm willing to arrange it, just for you."

He laughed out loud and stretched across the cushion, "Oh how you woo me."

"You can either tell me why you're here or I can shove you through my window and off of the second story. I've done it before; the person didn't like it very much."

"The person or the dead?"

"Paul!" I emphasized his name with the stamp of my foot and what little patience I possessed had evaporated.

He moved from the window seat to the bed and sat down, "I just came to say hello. You _were_ out all night and all morning. A guy gets worried, you know."

I snorted.

"C'mon, Suze, what kind of person would I be if I didn't get worried?"

"The kind you are."

Paul's eyes fell on me, "And what kind would that be?"

I responded with a murmur and hand gesture.

"A gymnast _and _articulate. What more could any person ask for?"

Pssh. "A restraining order, if you'd please."

A sick smile spread across his face. "I do more than please, Suze, I blow minds."

Instinct had me gagging which I tried to recover with a cough. Yes, Paul was attractive. More than attractive, but that was not the sort of thing that I wished to hear. I don't think that's something that anyone would want to hear.

Strike that; Kelly would love it.

"If it makes you feel any better I was just checking in to make sure that nutter didn't kidnap you or something."

"Nutter? _Jesse?_"

Paul scrunched his face, "Sure, if that's his name. The one stalking you. Tried to break my arm and then whisked you away from Kelly's party."

I took a slow breath to steady myself and attempted to mentally count to ten. _One, two, three…_Paul, being in the observant mood that he was, saw this and raised his hands up in front of him as if to ease me away from him. _Four._

"Now now, Suze, let's not get hasty here. _Five, six, seven…_

He was now backing away, step by step, drawing me towards him and my open window. "Susannah, please, there is no reason to be so worked up."

_EightnineTEN. _I lunged at him like a cat would at a mouse and we were both sent through the window and onto my roof. "If you do not willingly leave I will shove you off!"

"Jesus Christ! What do you think I was trying to do!?" Paul screeched, yes screeched, at me and shoved his hands against my chest sending me tumbling off of him. "You fucking psycho, I was just checking on you!"

I caught my balance before falling from the roof and prepared to charge him.

"Fuck you, Suze, you're not right in the head." He rushed to the trellis and began to climb down, checking over his shoulder to make sure I wasn't on his tail.

"Odd," I glared after him as he made his way down, "my shrink says the same thing."

Again I received the one fingered salute. Oh well, some things just couldn't be helped. I tossed the now mangled screen to my window off of the roof and towards the trash and then crawled back into my room. Honestly I was surprised that no one was banging on the door demanding to be allowed in. Paul and I must have been making a lot of noise and yet there was nothing.

"Entertaining, mediator."

I jerked in shock and am almost positive that my bones nearly removed themselves from my skin. Get rid of one person and then BAM, there's another. Well, not really a person anymore. I mean, she was dead and everything.

"You're not here to hit me with books again, are you?"

She looked around my room with the same bored expression that I often wore. Okay, well, I'd just try and start over Father Dom's way.

"Hi, we haven't been properly introduced," I extended her my hand and smiled as best as I could. "Susannah Simon, here to move you on to the next stage of death."

She scoffed at my hand and, rather than providing it with a decent shake, slapped it away. "Mercy. Dead and unwilling."

"Well then, this should be easy enough," I flopped down onto my bed and watched Mercy as she wandered around my room. "So if you don't want help what exactly are you doing here?"

"Monitoring the progress."

Cue the eye roll. I hated when a ghost felt that being cryptic was the 'in' thing to do. "I've noticed you're no longer speaking in complete sentences. Classy _and_ eerie."

She ignored me.

"What progress is it you're monitoring?"

"It's of no concern to you."

"Oh really? You see, I'm under the impression that if you're monitoring me, which you obviously are, then it does concern me. You see where I'm going with this?"

Mercy turned and opened her mouth to say, or probably scream, something and then disappeared with a loud Pop! sound which I had never before experienced.

There just never was a dull moment in the Ackerman-Simon household.

* * *

"Jesse, why are there photographs, old old oooold photographs of cave paintings in here?" I turned the enormous book and leaned closer to the page to get a better look at the pasted down images. "Are those two people? It's like someone gave a four year old finger paint and thought it would be funny to blindfold them and put them in a dark room. Just to top it off."

"It _is_ a cave painting Susannah," his emphasis on cave received an eye roll. "Ikea lighting was not really an option for people of the day."

I sighed dreamily and repeated the word 'Ikea' then shook my head as if to snap myself out of my blissful daze and moved on to the next picture. "Look at this one, they're holding hands. Well, I assume that _le artiste_ meant for it to look like that."

Jesse gave me an annoyed look and flipped the page then went about wandering around my room.

"What is this?" My fingers hovered above the characters, tracing them from less than an inch away.

"That," he announced as he peered over my shoulder, his chest briefly brushing against my back triggering an unwanted shiver that shot down my spine and out through my body, "is Roman. Ancient Roman, if I am not mistaken." His dark eyes scanned the page and he shrugged. "All that I am able to get out of it is Gaius and Vesta."

I stared intently at it and then sighed as if giving up on understanding it. " You can read it?"

"It stands out, you can't see it?"

"Well, I guess. I wonder what the rest says. I mean, it looks like it was written so quickly. It's practically telling you that the writer was in a hurry to get it all out or something."

He gave way to a shrug, "I imagine they were. Or maybe they just had sloppy writing."

Laughing, I skipped to a different page, "Couldn't be. Everyone had nice writing back in the day. Standards were high then, you know."

"Indeed I do," he smiled.

I skimmed through the pages, most of which were covered in drawings and foreign languages until one caught my eye.

This particular page was written in a script that curled about the pages. The beginning letter of every sentence was thicker than the rest and seemed to shoot through the word itself. On the top of the left page read _Zachary Noah Adams_ and below it was a brief description of his life. Zachary's parents had fled from England to Holland in 1624 and stayed for three years. They had become worried that they were losing their English way of life, caught word of the new British colonies and opted to move once more. In 1628 Zachary was born and, like most children of the time and region, raised in the Christian church. His father had taught him to farm the land and he doubled as a middle man between the nearby towns and the native tribes.

Two pages later, in the same script, _Verinity-Anne Cauld_ was written and again a rundown of her life, which happened to be much more interesting. By the age of 15 she had lost both of her parents, one to malaria and the other to malnourishment and had moved from Wales to the colonies on her own. She arrived in 1645, denounced the Christian church and celebrated her belief in the Welsh Gods; a family tradition that had been passed down from mother to daughter for many generations.

Her blatant distaste of the norm attracted both positive and negative attention and had her set as the number one interest and subject to be gossiped about among the town. According to the information I had read the fact that she was attractive didn't help to ease the gossip. While the good people of the town spread terrible rumors about her they also sought out her aid when struck with an illness or for advice when suspicious of a neighbor.

In 1647 Zachary Noah Adams and Verinity-Anne Cauld were wed. Three months later Verinity-Anne was accused by a spiteful neighbor for practicing necromancy, spell-casting, bewitching men of the town and both advertising and promoting savage beliefs. Zachary was accused of conspiring with a witch and by marrying one thus promising his soul to the Devil. Both were found guilty. Verinity-Anne was stoned by the town's people, bound and dragged through the main road and, finally, burnt at the stake. Zachary was forced to watch his new wife's demise and was later quartered by horses.

I closed my eyes and turned the pages at random, then peeked through my lashes at whatever it was that I had landed upon. Two incredibly worn and folded pieces of paper drifted from the book's crease and down into my lap. Gingerly I lifted the folded notes and set them aside. The book had opened to a page that had a document pasted down and the large print across the top grabbed and held my attention.

_Marriage License_

_OFFICE OF_

_RECORDER OF DEEDS_

_STATE OFMAINE_

_CITY OF PORTLAND_

_This License authorizes any Judge of a Court of Record, Justice of the Peace, or Ordained Preacher of the Gospel, who is a citizen of the UNITED STATES, to solemnize marriage between  
Mr. _James Oliver Maddock  
_of _Portland _State of _Maine_ who is _at_ the age of twenty-one years, and  
M_iss Emma Grace Newbery_  
of _Portland_ State of _Maine _who is _over _the age of eighteen years._

_ Witness my hand as Recorder with the seal of office hereto affixed  
at my office in the CITY OF PORTLAND, this _17th_  
day of _ May_ 19_43.

I didn't bother to read the rest, which mostly consisted of signatures and instead smiled to myself. On the page opposite of the wedding license was a photograph of whom I assumed was the couple, James and Emma. She was sitting on a checkered picnic blanket, her legs folded to the side and he was kneeling behind her, his arms wrapped around her chest and his chin resting on her shoulder. Both of their heads were tilted to their left and their smiles could only be described as a mile long. The gleam of joy in their eyes was bright and obvious causing my heart to uncharacteristically swell at the sight of it.

Jesse looked at me, a brow quirked in question. I mimicked his expression then lifted my right shoulder and returned my attention to the picture. "He sure was handsome."  
"Who was?"

"The guy in this photograph, James Maddock. Or I'm assuming that's him. He kind of looks like Gene Kelly."

"Yes, I suppose he does. If we're naming names then I must say that she," he pointed to the woman, "looks like a cross between Rita Hayworth and Gene Tierney."

I shrugged, not knowing who Gene Tierney was and looked at Jesse, whose eyes were now closed.

"She's made my life so glamorous, you can't blame me for feeling amorous… Oh, 's wonderful! 'S marvelous, that she should care for me!"

With a laugh I added, "'s awful nice!"

As I went to close the book I saw the folded notes I had previously set aside. Carefully, very carefully, I lifted them and unfolded the first. Across the top read WESTERN UNION and below it a date so faded it couldn't be read.

Mrs Emma G Maddock

The secretary of war desires me to express his deepest regret that  
your husband Staff Sergeant James O Maddock has been reported  
missing in action since eight June nineteen forty four in Normandy  
if further details or other information are received you will be  
promptly notified.

The foreboding piece of paper was refolded with shaking hands and placed back in between the book's pages. Then, with a shallow and supposedly soothing breath, the second letter was carefully unfolded and read.

Mrs Emma G Maddock

I am deeply distressed to inform you coorcted report just received  
State your husband Staff Sergeant James O Maddock who was  
previously reported missing in action was killed in action on eight  
June nineteen forty four in Normandy. On account of existing  
conditions the body if recovered cannot be returned at present.  
The secretary of war asks that I express his deep sympathy in the  
loss of your husband and his regret that unavoidable circumstances  
made necessary the unusual lapse of time in reporting your  
husbands death to you confirming letter follows.

"Susannah?" A hand was placed on my shoulder. "Susannah, why are you crying?"

My eyes drifted from the paper and around the room until they managed to focus where I wanted them to which happened to be Jesse's worried face, only inches from mine.

"What?"

"What do you mean what? You are the one that is crying. Why?"

With a nervous laugh I wiped at my eyes. "I don't know… this book is just really sad. Why do you have it?"

Rather than answering Jesse slipped the book off of my lap and rebound the cover. "It is of no matter why."

I sat stunned as he replaced the book into his bag and headed through the door and down the stairs.

"I wasn't, like, ridiculing you or anything. I was just wondering why you had such an odd book.

"Susannah, have you ever felt that two people were so meant to be together that nothing could keep them apart? That no matter what it was that they happened to be up against they would still, somehow, make it through?"

I took this as my chance to end up back on good terms so I turned my bubbly up, "Hey, like in The Notebook! With the whole "Love never dies" or whatever it was. "Love lasts into death"? It was something like that... maybe stronger than death?" I bit my lip and tilted my head and then tossed off handedly, "Yeah, I'm sure something like that could exist."

Jesse stiffened suddenly, annoyed by the nonchalant attitude, and began to button his coat. "Are you _sure_," he focused a rather intense gaze upon me and then pretended to twist a long strand of hair and spoke in a high, valley girl-like tone, "or do you just guess so?"

I stood there picturing him with long curly blonde hair bouncy as he tilted his had from side to side and smacked imaginary gum. Bubblicious, I decided.

"Like, which is it, Suze? Do you, like, i-d-k, guess, or are you sure? 'Cause you're either totally sure or totally just guessing which I do like _all_ of the time. I mean, it's no big or whatev."

Entirely beyond unnecessary. "Well, you know what they say."

"Um, no, pretty sure I don't. A total 7-47."

I glared. "Que sera, sera." Well, so was that.

The front door slammed hard enough to shake the house and while it didn't affect me directly I was left shaking. One day my time spent with Jesse wouldn't end like this.

* * *

I realize that in the letters to Mrs. Maddock there are a few things spelled incorrectly but let me assure you that it was intentional. Also the jump from Paul to Jesse doesn't make much sense but it will be explained in the next Chapter so hold on to your horses my dears!


End file.
